


Not Involved

by cerysemeryse16



Category: DarkHarvest00, Everyman HYBRID, MLAndersen0, Slender Man Mythos, Slenderverse - Fandom, Tribe Twelve
Genre: All of these are mostly trigger warnings, Alternate Universe, Blood, Demons, F/M, Gore, Murder, Possession, Slenderman - Freeform, Slenderverse, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-01-17 21:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 24,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1403914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerysemeryse16/pseuds/cerysemeryse16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The moment Meryse tries to help, she remembers why she made the choice to stay away in the first place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Gave In

**Author's Note:**

> I request of you that before you start reading, it's in the interest of the best experience possible to be caught up with both EverymanHYBRID and TribeTwelve. This is just so you don't get confused; also there are quite a few spoilers. This work will be continued to the best of my ability until the series is over. Thanks for stopping by and showing interest!

four weeks after Lexi  
I told them I didn't want it. I didn't want to be involved.  
It was hard not to care when so many of them were either half or all gone, but I still persisted and shoved Vincent's camera away whenever he showed up at my place, begging for help. But he knew it well, too, that it would only make things worse if I tried to be a part of it.  
But one day, it just became too much for him.  
I remember his email. It came with no subject line and an invisible sender.

M,  
I know you don't want to help me, and I've tried my best to respect that for the past three years. But at this point, you are one of the only ones left.  
Evan is detaining me. Or rather, not Evan, but HABIT. Whatever the hell it is. He says that I can leave whenever I want, but I don't believe him and I need someone from the outside to keep me posted. He's probably intercepted this already and tried to keep it away from you.  
HABIT keeps bringing people into the house. I heard Noah Maxwell, that kid who lost his cousin Milo, come by the other night. HABIT was talking to him about a journal or something. And also that sign that shows up on all of his accounts. Or at least, I think. I haven't left my room.  
Please respond. I don't know what I need you to do quite yet, but it's best if you try not to show up at where-ever we are. I think it's still Jersey, but somewhere I'm not familiar with.  
I hope to talk to you soon.  
V

I didn't reply for a while. I knew that I was still at home, which is my protective parents' turf. Classes were starting the week after Christmas. I couldn't get caught up in Vinny and Evan's psycho Slender Man bullshit, but this was a thing that was taking over both of their lives and killing everyone they held dear.  
I had to do it, whether I liked it or not. So, after a few days, I emailed Vincent back. I had valuable information that he probably needed. I may have not been helping the boys directly, but I had been doing research about their predicament. Here's how it went:

V,  
Good to hear that you're alive. I've seen about you and Evan on that godforsaken YouTube channel.  
My parents would most definitely would kill me, but not unless I come to where you are. And even if it does result in me having to save both your asses, I don't care if I'm grounded for eternity as long as any of you are safe. I'll do some more research about HABIT, but considering how elusive it is, it may be very hard to deduct reasoning unless you can try to get more information from HABIT itself. Stay strong and try to remain neutral whenever it's around; it will pick up your attempts to be traitorous and... probably become progressively hostile. Be safe, Vin. I miss you.  
M 

 

His reply came that same night.

M,  
I miss you, too. I got a good look at the house while HABIT was out this afternoon. The address is 2593 W. Credence Avenue; it sounds familiar. If you could look up where I am, it would be great, but don't come here unless I tell you to. HABIT is getting less and less stable as we go through the week, so I'm trying to become less and less involved as time goes by. I keep hearing little rustles outside the window; I have a funny feeling I might know what it is. I'll investigate further as I go.  
V

I sent back as soon as I could, and also pinpointed his location.

V,  
It looks like you're still somewhere in the neighborhood, not very far from Evan's old place. Which means it's not very far from me, either. I still have my house key to Evan's if you want me to check it out... or come and get as close to where you are as possible. Maybe I could scope out the situation from the outside? Just give me the word.  
I think I know what thing you're talking about. Some people call it an experiment, others think it's a Native-American spirit. Either way, I haven't found anything that could possibly connect it to HABIT or Slender Man. Sorry.  
It's common sense, but stay the fuck away from HABIT. It sounds like he's a ticking time bomb.  
M 

I heard my computer beep at around 2 in the morning, and did not hesitate to fly across the room.

M,  
It's that thing. I saw it. It was hanging around HABIT. The scary thing is that... it had more human characteristics than not. I wish so much that we knew where the bastard came from.  
I'm really beginning to wonder if I can handle this any more.  
If you really find the need to, I guess you can go to Evan's. Be unreasonably careful, though. He's so unpredictable. Please, please send me back anything you find that could be at least a little bit consequential. Stay safe there, Meryse. HABIT likes to go out a lot.  
V

Almost as soon as I sent the email, I got another one from an invisible sender, so I thought it would be Vinny again. I was wrong.  
I was dead wrong.

AH, MERYSE.  
I KNOW YOU FROM EVAN'S HISTORY. THE BASTARD DOESN'T REALLY LIKE THINKING ABOUT YOU VERY MUCH; I THINK YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT.  
YOU HAVE A NICE NAME.  
PLEASE STOP SENDING MESSAGES TO MY PRISONER. I FIND IT INCREDIBLY IRRITATING, AND IT USES UP ALL THE WIFI HERE.  
REALLY FUCKING IRRITATING.  
IF YOU DO HAPPEN TO GO TO EVAN'S HOUSE TOMORROW, I WILL BE THERE. JUST FOOD FOR THOUGHT, I GUESS.  
IT IS ALL IN YOUR HANDS NOW, LITTLE GIRL.  
LOVE AND REGARDS,

I didn't sleep for the rest of the night. I just sat there and thought about the fact that now HABIT knew about me, and there was no way I was getting out of this god-damned situation.


	2. Late For The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should have just left it alone.

The next morning, I sat at breakfast, just staring, and my parents went to work.  
I knew that I couldn't go to Evan's place; he would be there. And of course he was going to kill me, he was just being pretentious and a liar. However, something inside me told me that if I was quick and logical about our encounter, I could maybe, possibly get some answers out of him. Maybe. A little while later, I received an email I knew I would regret opening. The text:  
WHAT'S TAKING SO LONG, LITTLE GIRL?  
I knew that I had to go, or whatever it was would keep harassing me.  
Evan's house was only four and a half blocks away from mine, so I just walked there. I did bring a kitchen knife as a precaution, even though it wouldn't get me very far if HABIT turned hostile. Then it dawned on me that maybe HABIT might have been lying. Maybe he wouldn't be at the house at all. It would probably be worse, because he would be letting me and Vinny talk more. As a result, drawing me closer and closer to the base.  
Tossing away all nervousness, I slowly unlocked the door to the house and stepped inside. It smelled like Evan's house, as always, but also something a little bit more sinister than was usually present. The entry seemed fine. I remembered going there when they weren't filming, towards the beginning of their ordeal. Jessa and I would come over to hang out. I was like everybody's little sister. We would marathon horror movies, play games, laugh a lot. It was great.  
The kitchen was a different situation. The cabinets were flung open. There were ripped-up papers on counter, and a graceful bloodstain adorned the fridge. The dining room and living room were similar situations, except there was a haunting motif of the purple duct tape. It was stuck on the table, and placed as an “X” on the television.  
After picking up a cache of the ripped paper and looking over it briefly, I walked upstairs.  
As soon as I walked up to the landing, a crippling sense of foreboding washed over me. Maybe it was better that I not disturb this place, especially since there was a stale, coppery odor coming from every direction. I attempted not to gag on the sight and the smell. Why? Why would something happen like this? And how long would it be before the authorities showed to wonder why no one had been living here for the past few months? What would happen to the boys?  
I turned around and went into a side room. Wrong choice.  
“You showed up late to the party, little miss.”  
It was filled with bodies. In all stages of decay and viscera. And Evan was standing in the middle of it all, his arms soaked up to the elbows in blood. No, not Evan. HABIT. There were little dribbles of it falling like a veil over his face. I shivered a little at the sight of it all.  
“I just came to pick a few things up.” I tried smiling smoothly, to little avail.  
“Yes, for whom?” He wiped the trademark knife that he was holding on the comforter of the bed.  
No use lying about it. “Vincent. You know, the guy you're detaining.”  
“Oh, yeah, that guy. He's a fun one. Smarter than the usuals.” He gestured to his morbid museum. “Now, enlighten me, why are you doing this for him?”  
“We're trying to get more information about Evan. Maybe Jeff, too.” I shifted my weight, feeling the coolness of the knife I brought against my leg. “The other two that you've killed.”  
“Oh, Evan's not dead. Yet.” He added. “Please, have a seat,” he said, looking over at a chair that was left unoccupied.  
“I don't think so,” I said, walking into the room. My nose stung with death and blood, but it was no compare to the uneasiness of the situation. HABIT didn't hesitate to approach me either, but it made me flinch in turn. He guided me, touching the small of my back.  
“I admire your stone-cold courage, I really do. But we have to have a small chat before you carry on with your shitty endeavor, Meryse. Sit down.” His voice was guttural; something that couldn't be identified. I had no choice but to sit on the blood-soaked chair. He sat across from me on the bed.  
“Now, as you can tell, we've both found ourselves in a bit of a predicament here. I, on one hand, have an assignment, of sorts, to kill as many people as is within my power while keeping our friend Evan in a trance. It's failing. Why? Because small little people like you get in my way. Your predicament, however, runs a little bit deeper. Perhaps you can tell me why.”  
I sat there, my lips quivering as they searched for words. A realization came to me.  
“Because I know too much.”  
“You're pretty, and smart. I like that.” He grinned, playing with the hilt of his knife. “Yes, because you know too much. I can easily make both of our problems go away right here and now. I can kill you and add you to all my friends here. Or, you can do a little favor for me while you keep tabs on Vinny.”  
“Do you think I would make a deal like that with something like you?” I became defensive all of the sudden. I was mad, but not surprised, that he would take advantage of me.  
“I've known plenty of people who have. Most of them didn't do it right, so, naturally, I killed them. But I thought you'd say something like that. So I'll phrase it differently.” He eased his elbows onto his knees. “Our friend, Stick-In-The-Mud, needs some help doing his dirty work. If you help both Vincent and me, you will be able to help us, and also yourself.”  
“What kind of dirty work?”  
“Someone to help with... preparing people.”  
“You'll kill me if I don't take this deal.” I told him.  
“Yes, that was a given,” he said congenially.  
“And even if you choose not to, I'll die soon anyways.”  
He nodded slowly.  
“But I have to torture people if I want to stay alive. No, I won't do it.” I felt as resolute as I sounded.  
HABIT stomped towards me, his voice as demonic as ever. He took me by the throat; I couldn't reach my kitchen knife in time.  
“Listen, Meryse. I know you're a little new to this game, so I'll lay down the rules for you. Deals with the devil are required, just like in real life. If you can't handle that fact, then you'll be dead much fucking sooner than I thought you would be.” Seeing that I was struggling, he smiled and let go, stroking my face with the back of his bloody hand. “I'm sorry. I will not take 'no' for an answer.”  
I weighed my consequences. On one hand, I could run away from this place forever and get grounded by my parents for having blood on my clothes and face for no logical reason I could cook up. And even if I did get the chance to email Vinny again, it would most likely get intercepted by HABIT and I'd be forced to meet him again. If I didn't email Vinny, I would probably still get caught up in this mess somehow and die within the year, because I was smart enough to pick up that that's how these things worked most of the time. If I took HABIT's deal, I would be able to still give information to Vinny to try to get him out of the disaster, but I would be forced against my will to become a proxy for Slender Man. But I wouldn't directly remember any of it. But people around me could get hurt. But...  
“Fine.” I said, HABIT's black eyes probing me hungrily. “Fine, just make it so I can't hurt anyone I know. Just... fine.” He stepped back and smiled, pocketing his hunting dagger.  
“You are more than welcome to come and live with me and your special friend if you'd like. It's not that bad,” he cackled and stepped out of the room. “Please, I invite you to search to your heart's content. I know you're gonna love your new job.”  
After searching the basement and some of the upstairs rooms, and finding nothing but more blood and some stray clothing items, I went home and wrote to my parents that I was going to live with Vinny and that it was best if they didn't get involved, reminding myself to ask HABIT if he could give me insurance that they wouldn't come looking for me.  
Just as I checked my computer for the last time, I saw I had a new email. It was from HABIT.

BRING ONLY WHAT YOU NEED.  
THE CARRAIGE AWAITS, YOUR HIGHNESS.

My closet door opened behind me, and the hairs stood up on my arms. Looking behind me, all I saw was an “X” marked in purple duct tape on inside of the door. I picked up my laptop and a bag that I'd packed with necessities, and walked through the frame, looking around in the dark. The door slammed behind me and I shrieked. I spun around and threw it open, only to be standing in the entryway of HABIT's house. It was a pretty sweet-ass party trick. I set down my bag slowly. There was no furniture and no sound, except for a small ticking that could be heard from upstairs; or maybe it was the sound of computer keys.  
“Vinny?” I shouted up the stairs.  
I saw his face from the corner. “Oh, my God, Meryse,” he whispered. “What the hell do you think you're doing here?”  
HABIT came in from a doorway on the main floor and smiled, bloody arms extended. He hadn't cleaned up from Evan's house.  
“Meryse! Wonderful that you're here. There's a bedroom right across from Vin's that you can take. Make yourself at home. We're having pizza tonight.” "I'll be in my room for the rest of the night, if it's okay." Vinny's tone was quiet and trust-less. He sounded like I felt.  
“Of course. Meryse and I will just hang out here. We have some things to discuss anyway.” He put an arm around my shoulders. I didn't object. I knew what it would get me if I did.  
“Why is she here in the first place?” Vincent was obviously confused, and to be completely honest, so was I.  
“She's here to help all of us, Vin. Three-Musketeers-like. Except, you know...” He leaned on the banister. “Much more... uh... serious.” He grinned, and we both grimaced.


	3. Three Musketeers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I (never) signed up for this.

Once I was settled into my room, I knew immediately that this was not to be as simple an existence as I thought that it would be, as if I thought it was going to be simple in the first place. There were still faint bloodstains on the wood floor, and the bedding was more pink in some places than white. The aroma of death, as a result, had not gone away. I was beginning to feel sick.  
“Meryse. How you like it?” HABIT hissed behind me. I wondered if Evan would ever surface before I died. I was certain I would die soon. I wasn't going to try to convince myself otherwise.   
“It's nice,” I answered passively, and began unpacking into the small wardrobe in the corner of the room. “The best I could get in this situation.”  
“You're damn right, it is,” he said, and opened the closet to find a rabbit corpse, plucking it out by the scruff of its neck. “Must have forgot one.” He waved it back and forth and I smiled a little; as much as I could for having a dead bunny in my closet, let alone a centuries-old, crazed killer in my bedroom.  
“So, my parents...” I sat on the bed. “Can you make it so I don't kill them?”  
“Ah, but I was so excited for that part.” HABIT chided, rubbing the rabbit's left front foot. “I'm not really in charge of this kind of stuff. But, I'll see what I can do.” He patted my head, staring into my eyes. “Just for you. I know that your parents didn't really want you to hang with our crowd in general. It would only make family matters worse if you kind of... eh... brutally murdered them.” He laughed. I studied the floor.  
“But I'm assuming you don't have any further requests? No friends you want to protect? No siblings?”  
“I don't have friends,” I said. “I'm all on my own, for the most part.”  
“Aw, pity.” He replied, sticking his bottom lip out. He reverted to his cold stature. “All the more convenient for us. No-one will wonder where you've run off to. Except those pesky parental units.”  
“They're all I have. Listen, I don't know if you can make it so that they never remembered having me, or something like that... just... don't have them come running after me. I don't want you having two more problems to deal with.” The last part was flattery, of course. I didn't care. I didn't care about him in the least. I only cared about Evan and Vinny; and, to an extent, myself. He smiled and turned to leave the room.  
“Pizza should be here in an hour. We have free wi-fi, too.” I nodded, as if his turned back could see me.  
“Oh, and, there's this thing that likes to hang around here for extended periods of time. I'm sure you've heard of it. Stay out of it's way, and it'll stay out of yours.” He shut the door, and I could hear the grin on his face.

A long while later, HABIT brought me two slices of cheese pizza. He sat down on the bed with his own plate and I backed up a little, setting my laptop aside. He wrinkled his nose, sensing my mistrust, but then handed me my plate by setting it on the bed and scooting it forward with his bare foot.  
“Ha, ha,” I said, taking a bite out of a slice. “I appreciate your humor.”  
“So there's this guy,” HABIT replied, ignoring my comment. “Erasmus. He's not very smart. Likes to rag on me on the internet. He's found a way to send letters here a couple of times, telling me what a douche I am. Think you could sever him for a while?” He shifted into a comfortable position.  
“Sever him how?”   
“Just freak him out a little. It's okay, you'll know how once it turns you.” Another cool smile, another rush of uneasiness.  
“How does it feel?” I asked after a moment, looking at his blackened eyes.  
“You're asking the wrong person, sweetheart.” His grin faded. “Whenever I have something more important this shitshow to do, go ahead and ask Evan. If he comes back before you turn, that is.”  
“And when will that be?” I questioned, listening desperately for the sound of Vinny's steps coming towards the room; anything to shorten the time between me and this son-of-a-bitch.   
“Well, you're lucky, because I happen to have some friends in town who know exactly how to do the job. It'll be tonight!” He seemed so excited.   
“What? I never agreed to other people being involved!”  
“Meryse, when you took my deal, you agreed to everything.” He took my laptop away from me, opening it and looking something up. Spinning it around to an image of a cross inside of a diamond shape, he said, “This look familiar?”  
Hell, yes, it did. It was the sign of The Order; the cult surrounding worship of the Slender Man.  
“They do it?” I asked.  
“They sing a crappy song, do a little spell, the thing shows up, it's done.”  
“It can't be that easy.”  
“Ha, ha, it's not.” He giggled. “It's painful as balls, and I guarantee that you will bleed a lot.”  
“So what will it do to me?”  
“Again. You're asking the wrong person. Well, technically, we all know HABIT's not a person, don't we, now? Anyway, just roll with it. You'll be fine.”  
“And if I die? That'll be on you, HABIT.”  
“Quit your fuckin' whining, you are not gonna die. Most likely. I'll come get you when it's time. Now go piss around on your computer and EAT your pizza, Vince paid good money for that.”  
I quivered a little and didn't eat my pizza. My only reflex, as a logical person, to the unknown outcome of the ritual was to research it; but I found pretty much diddly squat on anything concerning Order rituals for proxies. I fell asleep when Vinny came in to tell me that he found some alleged information on Alex...  
I awoke to a very muscular set of arms dragging me out of my sheets and guiding me down the stairs with a bruising grip. I was disoriented, but all I could think was “fuckfuckfuckI'mnotreadyfuckgetoffofmestopthisIneveragreedtothis”. But I didn't say anything.  
I started freaking out when I became aware that people in masks were taking off my clothes. I was stripped down to my underwear, and my hands tied behind my back while HABIT and Vinny watched behind an arsenal of masked figures that were armed with knives if someone chose to interrupt the process.  
I don't remember seeing much, as the majority of the ritual was held in darkness, with sparse candlelight in different corners of what would have been the living room. However, I do remember screaming. A lot of screaming, that I wasn't so sure that was all mine. The first hour or so carried on like this: me, screaming and crying, and The Order in a big circle around me, singing songs in a tongue that had long been forgotten, taking turns drawing the same symbol over and over onto my skin. The same one that had been said to be a severing agent used by The Collective; or at least what felt like it. I was aware of what was happening, just not sane enough to fully register it.  
In one huge moment, there was a stifling heat in the room that made me convulse, and a strange, reverberating tremor in the ground. The people noticed it too, and began muttering to themselves. I watched Vin run up the stairs. When I looked back into the chaotic room, I saw nothing but a strange aura of matter that shrouded the room in something unnatural.  
That thing... I can't dare to call it anything else. The last thing I remember fully of that night is a terrible, demonic screeching sound.

BLOOD. IT WAS WHAT I WANTED AND I GOT IT. A LOT OF THEM HARDLY HAD TIME TO RUN OUT OF THE HOUSE BEFORE I STARTED HACKING AWAY AT THEIR FEEBLE, HELPLESS BODIES. PUNY HUMANS. EVERY ONE OF THEM WAS GONE OR DEAD. I WALKED TO THE STAIRCASE AND LOOKED UP AT TWO PEOPLE WHOM I KNEW DEARLY, AND DECIDED THAT MY FUN WAS OVER WITH.

I don't remember a lot after that. I remember feeling heavy, and shiny. And when Vinny came downstairs and hugged his body to mine and came away soaked in blood, I took the time to puke all over the ground. I didn't know what happened or how, and I didn't ever bother to ask about the blood. Vinny just took me upstairs like an older brother and washed me up with nine towels that were wasted with heavy, crimson fluid, while Evan watched from the door. I don't think that I could have ever imagined how much he blamed himself for what had happened that night, even though I'm sure he got over it quickly. But I knew one thing that I did not forget from that night: whatever had me was much worse than a proxy virus.


	4. Pictures On The Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's like a tumor.

The entire morning, I sat on my bed, staring down a rabbit corpse that had been left on my bedside table to greet me with the sunrise. I heard some banging and shuffling downstairs and Vinny tapping away on his computer until about 10:30, and then someone knocked on the door.   
“Meryse isn't seeing anyone right now.” I whimpered loud enough for whoever it was on the other side of the door to hear. I was still in my bloody underwear.  
“Look on Twitter.” Vince said from the other side. “DarkHarvest00 posted something new. Thought you'd want to know.”  
I lunged for my computer and searched DarkHarvest00 immediately. A video was posted about ten minutes ago, and the title was, “The Jersey Cult.” The description:  
Hi, guys.  
I traveled to Jersey a few days ago to get more information about what HABIT might be, as it's starting to interfere with my own personal journey. After pinpointing it's location in a North-New Jersey neighborhood, I prepared to encounter it, because it's been DMing me on my Twitter. What I found was far more terrifying than anything I've seen before. Obviously, HABIT has more sinister plans that I thought.  
I escaped safely, but the majority of the Order members in New Jersey were not so fortunate. I'm uploading this before I leave on my plane to get the hell out of here before I make things worse. As long as HABIT isn't where I am, I'm not gonna bother it.  
Part of the garbled track that cuts in after my camera's sound goes dead forms a name. I've never heard something so complex, compared to the typical screech effect that goes on whenever that thing gets near me. It says, “Meryse”. I'm assuming that it's the name of the girl.

Yes, I watched it.  
It's never something that you wish upon yourself, to be immortalized negatively on YouTube. But this was in the worse way possible. It was apparent that our good buddy over at Dark Harvest, Chris, had been watching from the window for almost the entire hour, with the highlights of the event being the main parts of the video. I watched myself carve people up from the bush across the street. And as soon as it was there, Chris must have decided that it shouldn't be. It was gone forever. I shut the computer immediately. In my anger, I took the rabbit and hurled it across the room, and it hit on the door and landed on the ground with a low thud.   
“Stop throwing my things, Meryse!” HABIT shouted from somewhere downstairs. I heard a loud crash of breaking glass from the same vicinity. Damned hypocrite. I threw open the wardrobe door and grabbed a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and got dressed. I stared the at the bloodstained door until I got the nerve to yell at an ancient demon that could easily rip me limb from limb. I imagined the bodies that he was piling up in the basement of the house. But I didn't care. I found him decorating the living room with purple duct tape and coloring with black paint all over the walls with an arsenal of different-sized paintbrushes.  
“What the hell have you done?” I asked coldly, walking up to him.  
“I can't know what you mean,” he giggled, slashing the far wall with a machete that he got from God only knows where. He spun around. “What the hell have I done, darling girl?”  
“You've made a murderer out of me.” I said simply.  
“No, wrong. We've been over this. You've made a murderer out of yourself. I wasn't the one who made the choice to be a proxy.”  
“I'm not a proxy, HABIT. We both know I'm not. What did you get me with?”  
“Oh, Meryse, your naivety is striking!” He danced around the room, flinging paint in every direction, splattering the windows. “ No, you are not a proxy. You've been something like... infected.”  
I could only stare at him blankly, and wait for him to say more. But I wasn't as lucky. He began painting a quaint picture of birds and trees on the wall.  
“And?” I shuffled a little.  
“Like any good member of our friends in The Collective, you've been used as a vessel. Except, this time, it's more than a simple god. We are spirits, Meryse. Historical marvels that can't be explained by feeble minds. He knew you to be an instrument of something greater than any of you humans could imagine.”  
“I don't understand; none of you crazy bastards even know who I am.”  
He sighed. “What would you say if I told you that you've been in this all along?”  
To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised at all. It's simple, really, how easily they could have gotten to me. I'd made a name for myself in the Mythos community. I could have been like Erasmus. A “feeble mind” in the world. But no. For some screwed-up reason, the Administrator chose me to do his bidding.  
“But I was never 'in' this. Otherwise, I would have been part of something before I ever-so-stupidly threw myself upon you guys.”  
“Indeed. It wasn't The Administrator, or even my pal Firebrand. You are now a partner of mutual interests. You can trust whomever you want to. You can help... whoever you want to aid. And you can let people drown if you need to. You're your own boss now!” He chuckled.  
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, watching HABIT paint a noose on a stick figure labeled 'SITM'.  
“I'm telling you because this will all make sense someday.” HABIT looked right into my eyes, and relished the look of confusion that washed over my facade. But a brief understanding lurked underneath. I knew for a fact that I was being used against my will. But now, I knew I was to be involved in something much grander. I was not a proxy. No, I'd been selected for the big leagues.  
“So, what am I called?”  
“What do you mean, 'what am I called'?” He turned around, back to his scenic painting.  
“All of you have a name. Noah's Firebrand, Mary is Cursor. You're HABIT. What am I called?” I crossed my arms, observing HABIT's handiwork.  
“We'll call you Fuckface,” he laughed. “The stupid.”  
I scoffed and stalked through the living room, into the kitchen. I opened the fridge to a large amount of choice cuts; all of human variety, I guessed.   
“Why is there nothing to eat in this damned house!?”

MERYSE. WHAT A LOVELY HUMAN. I CAN SEE WHY HE WOULD WANT HER AS A PART OF THIS; BUT HABIT HAS OTHER THINGS IN STORE FOR HER. HE HAS OTHER THINGS TO WORRY ABOUT IN OUR OWN LITTLE WORLD.   
TONIGHT, ERASMUS DIED.   
IT WAS SHOCKINGLY EASY.  
I'M SURE MERYSE WON'T HAVE A PROBLEM.


	5. You'll Be Fine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tell me how to fix it.

On the third day in the house of death, I sat secluded in my bedroom until sunset, reading about ancient rituals and planting demons inside of people. I could not know that what was inside me was a demon; but it was the closest thing I could have thought of.  
I felt sick. I remembered very little of the previous night, and the headache was not permitting it in the least. There were moments that I had flashes of weapons glinting in the faint light, or of screams that I could not recognize; I chose to ignore these. Dwelling on such things only made me want to puke and didn't help any of the people that I wanted to help. So, I just researched as much as I could. My computer fried out two or three times, but I always went back as soon as I could. Ultimately nothing came of it, other than a heavily-coded message that had gotten sent to EMH three years ago, but amounted to nothing but some of HABIT's foreshadowing.   
After twenty-some hours of searching, 1) Alex and Jeff were still dead, and they were not planning on revealing anything from beyond the grave. 2) Jessa was still dead, and she had nothing to share with me in our years-old email exchanges. 3) Chris from DarkHarvest00 was not responding to my tweets, with my three stages of bearing an alias, revealing myself and asking, and then desperately spamming his feed. 4) I had even tried to reach Noah Maxwell, only to get “I'm not blind. You're just as bad as the rest of them” in return. 5) I had scoured different forums and wikis concerning multiple facets of the situation and gotten nothing but shabby theories full of conspicuous holes.  
Nothing was working. I had too many questions, and my problems were innumerable. It was a messy, messy scene with no organization or method to it. As a result, I went out for a walk. I left the house, which was empty, unlocked. I slowly made my way towards Evan's house, intending to make the circle around it and back towards my own home, and then here. It was mysterious how conveniently close they all were. I almost had to laugh because of it.  
For the first time in months, I had a nightmare in the short hours I spent asleep. I was walking down my street in the neighborhood, a strange sound resonating in my chest and all around. It was like a distinct buzzing that somehow sounded familiar. Nothing happened, it was just me; walking on the street in a strange version of my neighborhood.  
I woke up curled up next to my laptop, using it like a pillow. It was amazing how quickly I was becoming attached to it; it was really the only way of connecting to the outside world. I looked up through the window, the morning shedding a warm light on my legs.  
And then it was painted crimson with blood.   
I jumped backwards, banging my head on the wall behind me. I swore and stumbled out of the room and away from the whispering, growling sounds that were coming from my window. I tripped over my feet, not having enough time to cushion my fall. I cried out, feeling the pain somewhere in my wrist. It was broken, but I didn't bother it. It would stop hurting, eventually.   
Blinked. Stumbled. Heard.  
“Meryse?”   
Vinnie.  
“Fine,” I replied. But I wasn't. Something was happening.

Meryse is easy to fix.

The curtain pulled away from my eyes and the darkness faded. I was fixed. By that thing. I cringed, regaining my gait and going downstairs.  
“Going somewhere?” HABIT.  
“No.” Spun in the direction of the closet.  
“I invite you.”  
“Shut up.”  
“What did you say?” His tone was something alien.  
I took a deep breath, trying not to cower, but fear crossed over my face quite obviously.  
“Nothing,” I said. “I said nothing.”  
He stalked away, muttering death threats and such.  
Dealing with this was going to be hell.

That afternoon, Vinnie left the house for the first time with me in it; and I clung to him randomly. Literally. I kicked and screamed and begged, and he cried a little, too.  
“You'll be fine, you'll be fine...” he kept saying. But I didn't believe him, not one bit.  
“Vinnie, don't go, please don't leave me...” I kept on pleading. But he kept telling me it would all be okay, and that he would be there in the morning, while HABIT looked at the mess he'd made with a smile.  
Within the span of the next few days, I stopped acting like a toddler. I stayed considerably more calm.   
I ended up crying when I couldn't sleep, when the sounds of gore and skin and teeth was deafening in his little room. It was only one room over, so I couldn't really block out all the sounds. I could almost picture him ripping knives through all the skin he could find, putting the entrails he didn't consume in his black bags, and then heading out at unknown hours to hang them up in the woods for everyone, from park rangers to little children to evil spirits, to find. The concept of it tormented me when I wasn't carrying out my employer's wishes and being a host to a macabre demon's to-do list.


	6. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should just leave it alone.

When I woke up, there was a note on my nightstand. Better than a rabbit.

Fuckface,  
Been here quite a while.  
-Schatten

“Hey Vin?” I shouted from the threshold of my bedroom, looking at the black paint which had now begun to crawl up the stairs wall. “Was anyone up here last night, besides me?”  
“Unless you count yourself as that thing that you turn into, there was someone else.” he said.  
It had been three weeks since being infected. I'd learned to somewhat ignore Vincent's snide comments about my alter-ego. She'd taken to being a very sociable person with me, writing letters and leaving them for me to find. She called me Fuckface consistently after hearing HABIT's joke, somehow. But the note that had been left that morning was the only one concerning HABIT; his Twitter description.   
“Is the freak out?” I peered around his door.  
“Yeah, think so. Went to do some favors, he said.” Vinny had become increasingly focused on the fate of Alex, and decided to be very passive about me and Schatten. I was certain he figured me as an instrument to keep HABIT that much farther away from him, even though he could tell I was becoming increasingly attached to... her.  
“So... where is he?” I went one step further, both physically and verbally.  
“I'm assuming; you know... there.”  
“Why is it so hard to say it?” I wondered aloud, looking over Vinny's shoulder. “You used to go there all the time.”  
“Yeah, to figure shit out. It's not exactly someplace I'd like to put a vacation home.”  
“Will I ever be able to go there?”  
“I don't arrange these things. The freak does.”  
“So, is he having another Trials soon?”  
“Stop looking at my stuff!” He closed out of the page he was on. He had at least a dozen different tabs open; mostly hacked databases, documents from Fairmount, old folklore... he hunched over his desk. “I can't keep getting information from outside parties... I need to find sources.”  
I patted his back slowly. I could tell how on edge he'd become since my arrival. Trying to survive in the house of a raving lunatic and a corrupted friend while vicariously trying to solve an unsolvable mystery is quite the burden.  
“I believe in you, Vin.”  
“But you're not on my side, Meryse! Are you?” He searched my eyes for a trace of solace, where he could find an old version of Meryse. But he couldn't. I left to go to the bathroom and shower.   
I watched my body in the mirror. It was sunken in unnatural places. Cut and scraped. Shadows were cast on my ribs, eyes, and cheeks from not eating. I slouched from a sleep that my own mind was convinced it had gotten, but that was not allowed by my other self. It was a picture of beauty. Well, beauty in the sense that I had worked hard to preserve a normal way of living. It was honestly a submission that I had condoned. And maybe I shouldn't have.  
Maybe.  
When night came, a new Rabbit was brought into the house. She was small and quiet. Wore a jacket and a beanie that HABIT threw onto the ground when they entered.  
“Lucy, I'm home!” he sang.  
I heard Vince close a door somewhere.  
The girl whimpered, “Where are we?”  
“Here's the deal, bitch. Every time you ask a question, I'll -”   
“Schatten will probably come down later.” I poured a glass of water and walked upstairs while he finished his threat.  
“I'll cut one of your fucking fingers off.”

I walked back downstairs sometime after two, and he must have heard me.  
“Come on down... shut the hell up! Just one more.”  
Curiosity had gotten to me. I couldn't just not watch it happen; being the way I was didn't permit such delicacies. Schatten being a part of me meant that, in turn, I was a part of Schatten.   
“HABIT, come down where?”  
“Bathroom door! Come on down... done! Now that wasn't so terrible, was it?”  
I cracked the bathroom door and heard the AC/DC blasting up onto the main floor. It was Evan's basement, which could only mean that HABIT was fucking with reality again.  
“You sure I can come down?”  
HABIT looked up at me from the bottom of the staircase. “Is that you, Meryse?”  
“Yeah. Schatten's busy.”  
“What the hell with?” He looked to the right of the doorway. “Quit your bitchin', we're almost done.” He slowly matched his gaze with mine.  
“I don't know... said something about helping a friend?” And that was all she'd said of it. Schatten was making a custom of leaving early these past few nights for things she didn't tell me or HABIT about.  
“You can't watch. Like I said, I'm almost finished. And we're you-know-where.” He wiped his brow with a bloody rag, which proved counter-productive. “Maybe next time.”  
“You always say that.”  
“Look, I'm real busy. Have Schatten come back in the morning. We'll talk then.”  
I scoffed and took off up the stairs to my room. I went back to my work at the laptop. I was almost sure that Noah's newest update contained a strange shadow that resembled something of a female form in the background of one of his shots. It was probably Schatten, but I wasn't drawing any conclusions quite yet. I played back a clip about six times before I caught sight of it. She looked human... But more ethereal. But Noah hadn't seen me. Or... her. Or it. But the biggest development in Noah's update was that Jeff was here, in the Candleverse. He was reiterating; or trying to, at least. HABIT made it that much more difficult, because he was HABIT; and screwing with the EMH guys what was he did best. I listened to what Jeff said.  
“You won't be the hero in this.”  
He was talking to Noah, right?  
A deliciously vulnerable scream rang through the hall, and I had a feeling that HABIT was finished. For a moment, I felt dizzy, and everything in the room distorted for a single second. Were we back? I got an idea in the moments before I drifted off, and saved it as a question for later.

“HABIT? Where are you?”  
“Kitchen. Busy.”  
“You are always busy.”  
“That's true.”  
I walked in on him cutting some of the skin away from what looked to be an upper arm. I giggled softly.  
“What were you doing last night?”  
“Doing favors.” I taunted him.  
He was quiet at his work.  
“Meryse is curious about the Candleverse. I think I'll leave a little surprise for her.”  
“Yes?” HABIT inquired, ever needing to be involved in mischief.  
“It's simple. Nothing terrible. Just a dirty trick.”


	7. Schatten and Jeff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Machen Sie weiter mit entfernt.

about seven hours after Bridge To Nowhere  
I came to in a chair in the upstairs bathroom, staring at myself. Most of my hair was gone. Awkward chunks stuck out from my head. It was shaved in some places, my cowlicks causing an explosion of strands to erupt from the crown of my scalp. A note lay on the counter.

Fuckface,  
Perhaps it will teach you to stay out of things not meant for you.  
Candleverse is my turf, slut.  
-Schatten

I didn't really think to do anything except cry. All of the sudden it became densely apparent that I wasn't paying attention to the gravity of the situation anymore. I wasn't allowed to solve the mystery from somewhere that wasn't mine.  
After finishing crying, I tried to clean up my new hairstyle to the best of my ability. I hissed out a string of curses directed at myself as I tossed all my dark hair into the trash, shivering at the reality that I wouldn't have it back in months. The cool air of the house tickled my neck as I stepped out into the hall, and I took the note that Schatten wrote to me and lit it up on the stove in the kitchen, then tossed it haphazardly in the sink. I was alone in the house. All alone.  
I picked up the phone that I had no use for in the past weeks to check my messages. This one was from my mother telling be to stay safe. The other was from Vinny, telling me to do the same. Thinking about Vinny made me wonder if he was successfully finding information on anything. There was so much to worry about and an unknown amount of time to figure it all out. And it was getting to be too much. I giggled as I watched the paper shrivel at the bottom of the sink. The house settled and I spun around, eyes glassy.  
“Who's there?” I questioned the air. “Who's there, Meryse? Shhh, keep listening.”  
The shadows of the mid-morning darkened the house to look like twilight; or in my mind, at least. I let a small laugh bubble up to the ceiling, then combed the hair that wasn't there anymore with shaking fingers.  
“Maybe it's mein freund.” I whimpered. “Maybe Schatten ist hier?”  
I could swear I heard Alice in Chains spilling from the bathroom door. I threw it open to nothing more than the bathroom I commonly saw there. I shook my head profusely, seeing Alex out the corner of my vision every time I took a breath. Was he alive? He was here. I could tell. I knew.  
“Hor auf hor auf hor auf...” Stop it. Please. But I didn't dare beg. I hate you I hate you.  
I lay in the middle of the floor in the living room, all the black paint covering the silk eggshell color that would have been there. I whispered in German-English for I-don't-know-how-long. Finally, the shadows in the room subsided to make way for a strange kind of light that made me want to curl up in the February stillness and sleep for eternity. Maybe sleeping for eternity was preferable to an eternity of being this thing.  
Maybe.  
Later in the day, HABIT came by to drop off lunch... a hefty teenager. He smirked when he saw Schatten's handiwork sitting up on the floor in front of him.  
“It suits you.”  
“Damn... you.”  
“Can't.” He knelt down to look at me and took my chin between two fingers. “Poor little girl.”  
I shrugged him off, looking down at the ground.  
“Not broken yet,” he cooed, then stalked away.  
“Not... ever.” I ventured, shivering in a well-heated room.  
He turned on the moment I finished, dropping the victim he had in tow.  
I waited for a knife to flash in my eye. A hand to come back. A high-spirited rant. To my surprise, nothing more came from him than an icy stare that we held for a few meaningless seconds. I couldn't hold in my despair, so I cried and pulled my knees to my chest, making myself as small as I could to keep Schatten from intruding and Alex from haunting and Vinny from asking. But HABIT did nothing to me. He stayed in the Room and skinned his unfortunate 'til mid-afternoon, and I listened. Pictured everything that went on, down to the very detail. I wondered how his skin felt when it was ripped from his limbs. If his muscle was as textured as I thought it was. I was shaking like a leaf and I didn't let anyone in, not even the voices.  
But dissolving into insanity didn't save my friends or myself. Eventually, I made my way to a standing position. Then walked up the stairs. Vincent met me at the top.  
“If it's okay; I need to talk to you about Jeff.”  
I could only nod. We walked into Vin's room and he took me to the computer and pulled up everything he knew about the Candleverse.  
“Jeff is reiterating somewhere in the Candleverse.” He looked at me with a light in his eyes. He had an idea. “We've seen what can happen if you try to go there.” I scratched the back of my head, pulling out more strands of hair that I had missed.  
“Not if Schatten doesn't know I'm there,” I said, and looked out the window.  
“Meryse, there's no way of knowing where she; or HABIT, could be.”  
“HABIT says he stays in the Candleverse whenever he can to find more of his 'rabbits'. That means we go there when you and I are asleep; or at least, when we're not completely aware of it. As a plus, Schatten's been out doing chores lately, anyway.”  
“What do you want me to do?” He shook his head... not wanting it.  
“I want to see if we can find Jeff in the neighborhood. It can be a nightly thing.”  
“What if HABIT catches us?” he whispered.  
“We're important. He can't hurt us that badly.”  
I could tell he saw what I meant. The whole reason HABIT kept us alive was that we were pivotal players in the game that we all went along with. He nodded slowly, both of us taking my thoughts into account. Thinking about Schatten and what kind of power she had. I knew that if I hurt myself, it would draw her to me. She knew the smell of my blood. So, theoretically, as long as I didn't get hurt, we could look for Jeff.  
Theoretically, of course.  
“Fine,” he said, trying to smile at the idea that we could be tortured for this. “Sounds like fun.”

At around midnight, I sat in a nest of alcohol and bandages in the middle of the upstairs bathroom to make sure all traces of injury had been covered. I'd been careful to remind myself that injury drew Schatten to me.  
“Meryse?” It was HABIT from the other side of the door.  
I swore under my breath. “Yeah?”  
“Go to bed, little girl.” Why? Why was he acting so... different? The initial request was an order, but in the latter he sounded... tired; almost. He never got tired.  
“One minute.” My voice cracked.  
“I'm going out, bitches. See you in the morning.” I heard HABIT run down the stairs and Vinny groan in assent. I finished putting on my bandages and met Vin in the hall, armed with a camera and dark clothing: a pair of black jeans and one of my old band shirts – The Grateful Dead.  
How fitting.  
When we were certain HABIT was gone, we went out into the eternal night. There was an unsettling warmth, but we didn't care. We were too focused to care.  
“Where do we start?” I asked, but my companion still looked around, getting his bearings.  
“We should try the bridge.” He regretted every syllable, and I could tell.  
“Probably.” I stumbled over the word, my body not wanting to carry me to the place that HABIT had been looking for Jeff the last time we saw him in a video.  
We made our way there slowly, and the air seemed to get hotter with every step. Was this hell? Purgatory? I had no way of knowing for sure... only Vin had some information; not even enough to explain what we had to do and where to go. It looked like Pascataway, New Jersey; but it felt like the inside of the monster.  
In one fluid movement, I checked the date on my phone. All of the numbers were jumbled in a strange code that I couldn't even try to read. Something knew we were here. It was out for us.  
“Vinny; something's here.” I told him.  
“Mer, I have a feeling we were caught before we came,” he replied. I knew he was correct; I just would not accept it.  
I watched the horizon as Vinnie led us to the bridge. The horizon looked as it should... but there were shapes writhing in the distance. I couldn't tell if it was just me, or if they were getting closer. Maybe it was just a part of being here. I thought about being caught. I thought about what else Schatten could do to me, other than rob me of my hair. I felt suspicion and paranoia creep up my back like a trail of bugs. I scratched the back of my neck; my hand came away bloody.  
“Vince...” It was as calm as I could make it. I showed him my fingers, soaked in crimson.  
“What?” He looked at me with concern. “What do you see?”  
“It's not there?” I looked closer at my hand. “I'm all bloody, Vin... I'm bleeding.”  
“No, you're not.” He was getting freaked out. “You look fine. We're close now.”  
I just carried on. However, I felt the blood trickling down out of my nose, eyes and ears. I felt the little wounds being opened under my bandages. I began to panic. “She's going to find us.”  
“No, she's not.”  
“Then he will.”  
“Meryse, be quiet.”  
“I'm not a stupid. I know what I'm talking about.”  
He turned around and looked at me with a stony glare. “You. Are. Losing. It.”  
I saw the outline of the bridge, covered in shrubbery and the shadows on the horizon. They were screaming now. I spun around in a flash, because thought I saw him. The knife was glinting in the streetlights.  
“So close... hor auf, Schatten.” I said it with deliberation and perfect intonation. It was happening again. I saw the outline of the bridge... covered in shrubbery... shadows. Shadow...  
I had to shake my head vigorously. I tried to snap out of it, tried to keep my hands from wiping the blood off of my body. Vincent looked back at me and then back at the bridge. I saw a figure with a familiar posture standing up against the bridge and the outline of a curly mop of hair. His shadow grew tendrils that grabbed at my feet; I didn't mind them. Very much.  
“Jeff...” Vinny whispered, then louder. “Jeff!”  
“Shhhh...” It was both me and Jeff that said it.  
Vinny pulled him into an enormous hug that seemed too long. Then, after swearing and asking why I was there, he hugged me, too. Not long enough, though.  
The heat of the air on the bridge was stifling. None of us could breathe. All we could think to do was ask Jeff questions. So we did; and after many attempts to understand, our questions grew to be very simple.  
“Why?”  
“What?” He looked around, making sure that HABIT wasn't there. I wiped my brow and my finger was red again. Just my imagination. Just my imagination.  
“Why are you here?” I asked.  
“Not a lot of time to explain,” he said. “It's hard to explain, and even I still don't know everything. All I know is I'll probably be back. You have never seen anything like this place... and I hope to God you don't have to - ” He stopped dead and looked at me. Oh, no... God, please, no...  
“Meryse, are you bleeding?”  
I didn't bother answering or anything to that effect, I just ran and ran until I could see HABIT's house in the distance, back to the real world. And if he was there... Somehow he had gotten to me; somehow he was hurting me. The deserted street grew longer with every step, and the shadows on the horizon grew closer and closer. I stopped in the road, wondering what to do. Where to go. So I decided that I was tired of stopping, and sitting, and crying, and wondering, and not knowing, and I ran to the house as fast I my tired feet would take me. The wind whistling in my ears sounded like The Rake screaming at me, and I heard the German plights of Schatten gripping around my throat, and I felt the slices of HABIT's knife cutting into my skin. From that night, I haven't ever felt the terror that I felt as I ran through the front door and saw the demon bastard standing right in front of me with his knife. He stepped forward to me with the grace of a bird and took his thumb and caressed my cheek slowly and sensuously. He withdrew, and let his tongue linger on the taste of the blood it had collected.  
“Mmm.” He grinned, staring at me the whole time. “Now, that is a sweet-ass party trick.”  
I looked at his knife, the blade dripping with blood. My blood.  
I didn't get to figure out how before I felt his fist connect with my temple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hor auf = stop it  
> Machen Sie weiter mit entfernt = make it go away  
> Mein freund = my friend  
> Ist hier = is here


	8. The Hell Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll never get out alive.

“Oh, look. She's awake.” His multi-toned voice hissed through every corner of the room.  
I blinked a few times, becoming aware of my restraints and a figure standing behind HABIT. The silhouette was familiar, but the scars disfigured the face. Its arms were crossed over the chest. I stiffened, somehow stricken with fear at the reality that The Thing that followed HABIT was with me. Animal-like, stark and awful. Were we still in the Candleverse? HABIT slapped me across the face with the force of a train.  
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO COME HERE!” He followed up his rage with a chilling laugh that shook my sanity. “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED!”  
“I'm -”  
“Wait. Don't tell me,” he said. “You're sorry.”  
I shriveled inside, wanting release. It was my fucking idea, the whole thing. I regretted even conceiving it, regretted pretending like nothing bad would come of it.  
“It was Vinny's plan.” I choked out, trying to let myself out desperately. I was beginning to grasp the repercussions of my stupid plan; maybe HABIT wouldn't kill me, but whatever he did would hurt a lot.  
“You're a dirty liar, my sweet.” He walked behind me. “I'm going to untie you. And you are not going to run. And if you do, what's about to happen will hurt more. Correct?”  
I didn't respond. He just let me go. My natural response was to run. I did, but The Thing caught me and stuck its surprisingly sharp teeth in the base of my neck. I screamed out in pain, shriveling in it's arms. But it didn't do anything. Just looked at me, with emptiness in the pits of its black eyes.  
“- just so predictable. I thought better of you.” Evan's strong hands took my arms, and threw me on the floor with HABIT's cruelty. He straddled me to stroke the bite, that now had blood spilling from it. “You're certainly in a mood.”  
I boldly spat in his face. “Don't touch me,” I growled.  
He wiped my spit off of his cheekbone. “A very bad one, too.”   
He seized both of my wrists, pinning me to the wood floor, and I became oriented enough to see that The Thing was holding a camera. HABIT's eyes dilated to something misty-gray.  
“Won't you come upstairs with me?” His grin was ear-to ear.  
He tossed me over his shoulder and his disciple followed him up. I screamed and kicked and punched, but it was no match to his brutality. I knew it wouldn't be anyway, but it was a natural human response. He was bringing me to the Room. His Room. The room that he killed people in and ate them over the long spans of time that he wouldn't come out for. Would I be one of them?  
“Let me go!” He didn't.  
“I'll kill you!” I wouldn't.  
Are you going to... Of course he was, you idiot.  
The door opened and The Thing turned on a floodlight. I clawed for the window at the back of the room, perfectly willing to throw myself out of it. In a contrary show of actions, HABIT just tied me up in another chair and gagged my mouth with a bloody rag.   
Without a sign of warning, he slashed his knife through my middle and I responded appropriately. He tsked at me, and the tears finally came. Angry tears. I slammed my hand over my neck, attempting to stifle the profuse bleeding. My vision was cloudy.  
“That won't help any. You know that.”  
I curled up and bit my tongue to keep from sobbing.  
“You've been a very naughty girl.”  
The next several hours were hell in a poorly-constructed storage space. The time that should have been daylight was spent in the Candleverse's eternal night. Saying it was a nightmare is preferable to what I was feeling. He chopped me up into bits and made Schatten put me back together again. He made me burn alive, and then made me drown. Water-boarding, stabbing, anything you can name, he did to me. And it didn't matter, because Schatten would always be there to pick up the pieces. I died in approximately 12 different ways that night.  
HABIT finally let me out of the room around noon the next day. Vinny had been beating the shit out of the door in Piscataway for a half hour without quitting, and HABIT was getting thoroughly agitated. So, halfway to lucky number 13, he yelled,  
“Alright, already!”, and slapped me once more for good measure.  
He dragged me by the arm across the floor and tossed me at Vince's feet, who caught me and fell from the force.  
“Take her. She really is useless scum as a mortal.” He slammed to door, and The Thing's hateful eyes flashed with something like sorrow before I blacked out.  
Upon waking, I looked around, seeing that I was patched up and sprawled out on Vinny's bed. I woke up with a fighting spirit, ready to beat HABIT to a pulp. But I knew I wouldn't. I didn't want to go through that again. Ever. So I got up slowly and went to my room. And stayed there.  
It began to get exceptionally hot in my room. So I opened my window, and a blistering heat accompanied the common buzzing signified an arrival in our favorite alternate dimension. I glanced out into the streets, searching for any path that Jeff might have taken, but I didn't see him or any sign that he had been here since the last time. Who could know how long that had been, since time was nonexistent here. I sighed in the suffocating heat.  
“Hey, Meryse, can you do me a favor?” HABIT called up the stairs.  
I stayed silent, alternating views between streets.  
“Do. Me. A favor?” He was whispering directly into my ear.  
“Shit!”  
“Now, now. Watch that lovely mouth.” He opened the box of gauze that I had almost exhausted. “I have a request.”  
“What do you want?” I asked. I was sincerely getting tired of him giving me vague assignments and little tidbits of knowledge. He wrinkled his nose at me.  
“I need you to keep out from now on. If not,” he picked out a piece of gauze, ripping open the packaging and holding it to some cuts on the inside of his wrist. “I'm pretty sure you know what happens next.” He slammed the door, humming as he went.


	9. Getting Stares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something helped me from under the bed.

The next day, after I had healed up at least a little bit, I attempted to go the library in Evan's car and HABIT spent some time in the house alone, (by his request). Of course I couldn't refuse.  
The library was a large building that was a little over two miles away from the house. It was closer to Jeff's house, which now belonged to a couple that moved from the Midwest. I pulled into the lot, watching the sky turn a threatening and snowy gray. I wondered how long it would be until the storm from the west blew in.  
I started by looking for documents about the Kovals, other than their obituaries and disappearance records, all of which I found incredibly unhelpful in the past. According to public records, Katherine and Henry Koval were found dead in their home on March 15th, 2010 and appeared to be waterlogged and decayed from drowning. Their son, Alex Koval had not been seen since the afternoon of February 22nd, 2012, and was presumed, and unofficially confirmed, dead on March 20th of the same year.  
Of course, Jeff's parents are lost forever. There's been no indication that there could even be shadows of their presence. About Alex; I know that what they have to say isn't true. I saw him myself in the video, and he was not dead. I looked all around the upstairs level in the majority of my time there, staring at books about German literature and Nazi projects and Neo-Nazism in America. Hardly anything was there.   
As I was pulling out my last attempt at knowledge off the shelf, I had to do a double-take at the back of it. Something had left a note.  
Where's your relaxation? Where's the time required for your health?  
It was not written in the all-caps that I was accustomed to. Rather, it was in a strange script that I had a hard time reading. The line however, seemed familiar. I was no fool, I payed heed to it. Beneath was written:  
Perhaps now is the best time: Crossley-Holland.  
Immediately, I stalked the shelves for the name and found it under a mythology book I hadn't yet pored over. Behind it, another note.  
Been hating on my new perspective, been hurrying along, no meal is EVERDONE  
To tell you: Gerard L. Posner, the devil  
I had to look on the computer for this one. It was a biography of Josef Mengele. I turned to page 66 (after much deliberation), and a note resided within it. I began to recognize the notes; they were lyrics from the ever-present song, “Who Could Win A Rabbit?” by ANIMAL COLLECTIVE.  
The fast child is gonna have a DEAD hand, we can get him started, yeah  
A secret from our friend of mutual interests: www.youtube.com/watch?v=PaPSWJruTkw   
It was a documentary on World War II. The most recent comment was from an account called Hilfe. It read:  
Go home, try to sleep and -.-. --- -- . / - --- / - .... . / -... .-. .. -.. --. . / .- .-.. --- -. .  
It didn't take me long to figure that the code was “come to the bridge alone”.  
I practically ran from the library.

The slow hum of the running shower told me that someone was home.   
“Meryse?” It was HABIT's voice. I set down the keys on the kitchen counter, not wanting confrontation.  
“I'm home.” It was all I said, and it was all I had initially planned on saying for the day. Of course, I wasn't as lucky. I looked over all the sketches that HABIT had decorated the walls of the house with. They were kind of lovely, I suppose. Strange and mutated, but lovely. The shower turned off on in the second-floor bathroom. He came down in a towel. His hair was frizzed and wet in a mop on his head, and his severe features were twisted in their customary sly grin. I couldn't help blushing at the sight of him.  
“Where'd you go on your little escape?” he questioned, and I told most of the truth. I said nothing about the notes, though. Who would?  
“Just the library. I read about some records for Vinnie. He was wondering if there was a history of disappearances in Pascataway.”  
“Makes perfect sense for him,” he said. “Always sending people out to do what he could do perfectly well himself.”  
“It was for all of us,” I said. HABIT just nodded, and took the knife out of the bathroom door that he must have stuck it in at some point in the day. I took a step back, out of instinct. “Vinnie is not a bad person.”  
“That's the thing. Unfortunately, you humans are all bad people. It's been the bitch of life since Adam and Eve left the Garden of Eden, and it'll be true until Judgement Day. That is, if you're speaking in religious terms,” he cackled. “If not, then you fuckers were all born terrible people. You just like having power. So y'all learn how to to appear decent to get that power. That's exactly why I haven't killed you or Vinnie yet.”  
He made a poking motion with his knife, and laughed when I flinched. But I couldn't help declaring the theory I held to be real:  
“You can't kill us, though. Not Vince, at least. He's too important.”  
“I can kill whoever the hell I want, darling. I'm neutral in this game, remember? All that time continuum shit doesn't really matter to me; I'm just waiting for the right moment.”  
“Yeah.” I laughed, trying to be smart. “Thing is, though, everything leading up to this moment says that you have to adhere to whatever is holding this coil together. I don't think you have a choice.”  
“At first, I thought you had some smart things to say,” he started back up the stairs. “but now I think you're just assuming things, like the stupid ass you are.”  
“At this point, there's no use trying to do anything else.” I chased him up, trying to spill out my emotions in a more reasonable way than spitting in his face. “I've tried in so many different ways to help the people I love, and to keep myself safe. But you're making it impossible. I can't tell if you love me or if you want to kill me.” He turned around to me sharply and got deadly quiet.  
“Then I'm doing my job.” A very impatient grin. Then, “Are you really that incredibly oblivious to the fact that the only reason I was brought back to this place was to sabotage everything you idiots hold dear? Are you really so ridiculously dense, that you can't understand that I hate everything you live for? You are all so infantile! I thought you might have been different, Meryse. I thought you were good enough to house something as vengeful and as powerful as Schatten, but I was wrong. You're like a shell for her, just like Evan is for me. You're reduced to nothing but ash in the end, and that's what's so delicious about breaking you. Is because no matter how macho or intelligent you appear, you will always be pitifully human when we're through with you. If I had a choice between loving you and killing you, I think you know which I would pick.”  
He turned before I got the chance to say anything and came back down the paint the back-splash in the kitchen. I just blasted AC/DC in Vinnie's room and tried to contact Hilfe by any means necessary. He yelled at me from downstairs once to call me a very unpleasant name and then went back to his sadistic humming. I wondered if there was any more food in the fridge that didn't used to have a family and a living.

four hours before Amuse-Bouche  
When the evening came, I still hadn't gotten in touch with Hilfe. I knew HABIT would be going out soon. I didn't want him to suspect me at all, so I told him that I was going to go whether he liked it, or not.  
“Please.” I walked into his room while he was adjusting his fedora. “May I go out with you?”  
“You're in a better mood,” he chided. “And hell, no.”  
“What do you mean, 'hell, no'?” I said as he pushed past me in the door frame. “I even asked nicely.”  
“You're not allowed to come with me. You're what we like to call a civilian.”  
“Civilian, my ass.” I was getting mad again, but I didn't care. “I've been a part of this for four and a half months now. You've put a fucking virus inside of me, and you said that the Slender Man even chose me for the job. I couldn't have more blood on my hands.”  
He stopped, walking back to me. I hoped he understood at least a little bit, but he was mostly unforgiving.  
“Listen, I see what you're saying. I do. But I don't have a 'bring-your-kid-to-work-day' kind of job, if you catch my drift. I terrorize people, kill them, and eat them. I'm thinking you hardly want a part of that. Even if you did, I know you'd have an ulterior motive. And if you think I'm going to let you go out there alone, you must take me for a kindergartener.”  
I sighed as he jogged down the stairs. I couldn't help wondering if he'd said the last part for his own gain, or for my safety. He'd been acting strange lately.  
“Come on!” I whined. “What am I gonna do? Besides, Schatten will probably rip out all my nails for going, anyway.”  
“What, you're beautiful locks weren't enough?” He looked up at me. I tried to assume the most defiant pose as possible. Or at least as defiant as I could in a t-shirt and sweatpants. “What are you up to, kid?”  
I couldn't tell him. No way could I possibly tell him. He'd just sew up my mouth so I couldn't ever talk to Hilfe at all. Pull that stupid telepathic knife trick again. I opened my mouth to speak. It was a lost cause; he'd find me out. But...  
“I'm a person of mutual interests.” I said simply. The corners of his mouth rose only slightly, but he was certainly smiling. He appreciated my mischief... even if he was still pissed at my apparent “stupidity” from earlier in the day. His eyes, however, looked almost sad.  
“Fine. Go. Just don't get brutally murdered; your blood is still mine.”  
“Just tell Schatten to lay off.”  
“You have my blessing, dear.”  
He must be kidding. He must. Just stating that I was an extension of Schatten's interests couldn't possibly mean that he would be fine with it. Maybe it was just me, but he almost seemed like he was saying goodbye. How would he think that?   
As I made my way through the buzzing, burning environment, my sense of foreboding grew like a weed in the pit of my stomach. My camera shrieked from feedback. The trek to the bridge was alien, and the twists and turns were different. The feeling of being observed was three times as intense. I twitched as a response, trying not to bolt back to the only place I felt “safe”.   
Yeah, the path was definitely different, because I must have spent hours trying for familiar landmarks. I searched the cloudy horizon several times, looking for the outline of the bridge. But each time I turned around, it was in a different place than before. The Candleverse seemed to be morphing around me. Finally, I got tired of it all. The next time I saw the bridge, I booked it there. It wasn't a long ways to get there.   
But no one was standing by the bridge.  
I kicked the railing as hard as I could, and felt a wound open on my thigh. Why would they just lie like that? Something bad was happening. I could feel it in the now-familiar air of the 'Verse. HABIT was acting strange. He just let me come in here without much argument. Hilfe told me to come to the bridge, but they weren't there. I looked out into the chaotic world that my boys had created for themselves, the weed in the pit of my stomach flowering into something awful. I'd read about Iteration Theory. How it tended to fold back down over itself, and begin a new iteration. The world was collapsing. Then again, Jeff had said that it was nothing like Iteration Theory, or anything we could have imagined, “we” meaning the following. The tie that I had made with Schatten felt strange now. Like I was coming out of my stupor. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't tell why.   
I blinked, my attention being drawn to the other end of the bridge. The door had opened, revealing Baldpate Mountain in broad daylight. The theorists had been right. I knew why Hilfe wanted me to come here within the moment. To escape. From what? In the distance, I saw the shadows on the horizon begin to writhe in ways I hadn't yet seen. I turned off my camera, and began to run to the other side of the bridge. I made it and ran through the connection, my vision blurring and then fading through darkness that, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't claw out of.


	10. Wanting Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I went up the rabbit hole.

one week after le premier cours  
I blinked in an artificial light that I couldn't grasp after being in the dark for so long. I bolted upright, making an effort not to black out again. It was getting to the point that I couldn't even remember how many times I had blacked out in the past five months of my life. I looked around, making note that I was in a hospital room. Some kind of alarm went off in the midst of all my instruments and the kindling for my energy washed away at light speed. A sedative.  
The point at which I chose to awake again was when a nurse was present.  
“What's today?” I muttered, looking down at the IV that was keeping me calm.  
“It's March 20th. Thursday. You were practically comatose for a week,” she said, moving to the bed, “and then you came to yesterday afternoon.”  
“How did I get here?” I wondered allowed. The nurse looked overtired.  
“You were brought in by a group of kids, a little older than you. They were terrified.” She checked my instruments as she spoke. “Didn't say much of anything, they kind of just left you here. Do you have any family to contact?”  
“No.” I responded. Whether I was an orphan or there was no record of my birth, there was no one for me to go to other than Vinnie and Evan. “No one. Where am I?”  
“Capitol Medical Center,” she replied.  
“No. Which city?”  
“Edison, obviously.” she almost laughed, she thought it was so stupid of me to ask.  
I sighed slowly. “Edison. Did they say where they were from?”  
She looked more concerned now. I scoffed internally. She didn't know what happened to me.  
“They must have been from Edison. Said they were camping, but that was it.”  
“At Baldpate Mountain?”  
“They didn't say.”  
“Do you have a computer I can use?” I said, looking through the open door that led to the hallway.  
“After you're cleared by a doctor, there's a computer lab on the second floor.”

The next day, after I was cleared, I caught up with my friends at EverymanHYBRID by watching Amuse-Bouche and Le premier cours. So... I was right. Except it was something a little more vicious than I had anticipated. Something that made them, as Vinnie had stated, a fiction. Except that no-one knew what it could mean or who had made them or what would happen next. Where had HABIT gone? Where were Evan and Vinnie? I needed to find out, under any and all circumstances.   
I used the hospital telephone to contact people that may have possibly have known that I still existed. Someone must have known. On my fifth failed call, I realized something that made me shrivel against the wall: I was purposeless if HABIT was no longer in this dimension. What if no-one I knew existed in the first place? What if I was one of them? Just a fiction. I attempted to call Vinnie's apartment. It picked up.  
“Oh, thank God. Vinnie, I'm in Edi-” I couldn't finish before I realized there was a loop of an electronic voice saying, “It is I who inhabits this sanctuary”.  
I swore loudly enough to turn heads and slammed the phone on the hook, then I stalked back to my room. Shortly after, I made a trip to the bathroom. I stepped back cautiously when I saw what was waiting for me on the sink.  
My laptop that I had left on my bed in The House Of Death.   
I didn't understand why, but it reminded me of a bloodthirsty monster waiting patiently for it's prey to come up, so that it could eat it. Something was obviously off about how it was there. I ran to the window and looked onto Edison, then back to the bathroom, my laptop sitting calmly all by it's lonesome; hauntingly, almost. I ignored it until I realized that it was the one thing I needed most to get out of the hospital. The staff was getting suspicious of my extended stay, and it wouldn't be long until they would start looking up my records. Well, I assure you that they would be four times as suspicious when they discovered that I didn't have any.   
So at around three the next morning, I opened up my laptop (which was fully charged for some reason), and searched through all my files, looking for a hint at the identity of whoever had returned it. There was, somewhat unsurprisingly, the video from the last night I spent with EverymanHYBRID.  
So I began my internet search. I tried contacting people again. This time, I got absolutely nothing in return, except a very obviously implied “fuck you” from everyone. Or, I just didn't exist. That could have been a possibility, as well. I attempted again, but this time only to Noah, expecting something from Firebrand. He had a habit of sending things to people.

Noah, or rather, Firebrand,  
For Noah. I know I've tried talking to you before, and I know you think I'm nothing but a roadblock in your journey to trying to figure this whole thing out. But this time I'm asking without any gimmicks, bets, or desperation. I need you.  
I'm sure you realize by now that something is wrong with my friends, Vinnie and Evan. They don't know what the hell is going on, and now I don't either. After trying to reach them many times, and trying to find their location; I've almost come to conclusion that they're no longer in the same dimension as us.  
I was sent out of the Candleverse by someone called Hilfe, and, come to think of it, they may have saved my life. If you have any information about Hilfe, please tell me. The position that HABIT put me in has left me with no family, friends, or contacts of any sort; let alone any kind of proof that I even exist. If you know any place to stay in Florida or Edison, NJ, it would be greatly appreciated. I'm asking you to trust me, as I have decided to put my trust in you.  
For Firebrand. You, of all people, must know how I got my laptop back. Your connections must know who Hilfe is and how I got here and who I am and how Evan and Vinnie and Schatten and HABIT are all involved with me. I know it's your nature to be secretive and only give bits of information.  
I hope you can both trust me long enough to give me a reason to live.

I didn't even address it; I assumed they would know. After, I uploaded the video.  
I fell asleep on the laptop and woke up again at dawn to a new email.

Don't ask me. I'm a partner of mutual interests.  
~F 

Then, another.

A friend of mine will pick you up this afternoon and take you to his place. I can't see you.  
I'm sorry they pulled you into this. It's not for the faint of heart.  
Noah.

I sent a brief but sincere response:

Noah, you have no idea how much this helps. Honestly.

I told my nurse that I would be leaving that day, and she prepared me a change of clothes and wished me well; considering I had nothing with me but myself and a laptop.  
Noah was trusting me, and bringing me a friend. Someone to take care of me. I didn't know his name or who he was, but Noah was sending help. And I appreciated that.


	11. Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I (never) want to go back.

A dark green pickup pulled up by the front doors and a tall, skinny guy with brown hair and dark eyes walked in through the doors. He slowed his step briefly to look around the lobby. His eyes found me and he did not smile; only nodded curtly and went up to the desk to check me out.  
I walked with him and got into the passenger seat. The car smelled like cigarettes and Chinese food; the recipe that made a classic male college student. I hugged the laptop to my chest as he pulled out of the hospital parking lot.  
“Did he tell you not to talk to me?” I asked.  
“No. He told me to not listen to anything you have to say.” He looked down the road, avoiding the sight of me.  
“You're interesting,” I said. “You're new to this whole thing, aren't you?”  
“The last time I talked to Noah was 2012. He hasn't said anything about it; just that it's been ruining his life. So I'm not very pressed to begin a conversation with someone who's involved.”  
We stayed quiet until he opened his apartment door and said he'd made a room in his loft. He said that Noah would be sending him money for me; but not a lot (this, specifically, he made sure that I knew). I nodded and smiled, and then asked if he had a computer charger.  
“Yeah, I have that model.” he replied, and ran to the kitchen to get it.  
A new place to hold me; for a while. Noah was giving me a chance; but it was a slim one. I charged my computer, watching the sun coming down over the city. I wondered whether or not I would see him again. It didn't matter who “him” was, I reminded myself. Just one of them. Any of them.  
He told me that he couldn't have me here for more than four days, because his roommate would be back from Poughkeepsie by then. I only nodded. His concerned look didn't really register; I hadn't gotten more than two of those in a while. In the back of my mind, I wondered what I was going to do after Noah's friend let me leave. Would I just waste away, being scarred by my experience? Would I find a new life? Would I look for the life I'd lost? Would I go back? The last question swam in my head until the early hours of the morning, because of course I couldn't sleep.

“My name's Liam.” he said, startling me from my zombie-like stupor at his kitchen table. He began brewing coffee.  
“Don't tell me that,” I whispered. “Don't get involved.”  
“Well excuse the hell out of me,” he replied flippantly, and sat across the table. Now it was me that was avoiding his gaze. His tone reminded me of HABIT. I didn't want that near me anymore, and yet, I craved it. “I was only being polite. It's not very nice to not know the name of the person who's living in your home.”  
After much deliberation,  
“I'm Stephanie.”  
She was dead as a doornail. I couldn't change that, and there wasn't anything to chase me for using her name; for now, at least.  
He smiled, and glanced down at my neck. He pointed; I shifted uncomfortably.  
“How'd that happen?”  
The bite that HABIT's cameraman had given me on the night I was punished had turned into a scar. They had never posted that video; he probably kept it in his own personal records for some twisted reason that I didn't want to know.  
I grinned and shook my head, and he stood up, an air of understanding with him.  
“Don't ask me that, don't get involved?” He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to me, and I nodded for the I-don't-know-how-many-ith time.  
“Why did Noah decide to call you after two years?” I asked him. He shrugged.  
“He said he needed a place in Edison. As you can probably tell, I live here.” That, of all things, made me really smile.  
We talked small after that, nothing to give away too much about our lives, although we teased one another occasionally with choice pieces of information. He was so wonderful, it seemed. He loved dogs and daytime television, Asian food and rock music. He'd read his favorite book 25 times since he was eleven, and he'd had two girlfriends from the time he was twelve, until now. I told him that I was a paranoid phobic that spent most of her waking hours on a computer somewhere, somehow. He laughed when I told him about the time I tried to be social with a friend group; and failed.   
About twenty minutes in, I began to wonder if I was free of it all. If this was the end. If Stick-In-The-Mud had had his fun with me, and he was finished. Truth be told, that's almost never how it had worked in the past. I wondered if, in a year, he would slowly creep back into the life I had made for myself and eat away at me until I was nothing; or if this was it. I decided to go on as if there was no more. I wouldn't mind being rid of all the EMH shit, really. All the demons and mindfucks and rituals and cannibalism. I went on believing that I was free.   
It ended up being me and Liam and Liam's roommate, Jordan, for a month. A full month of me not worrying about anything and Asian food and daytime television and dogs.


	12. Jolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They came back.

My dream was painfully realistic.  
I stood in Evan's basement; or the EMH House's basement, or... whatever. I knew the cold concrete wall, the television set, like old friends. I knew the office cabinets from the carpeted floor, and every smell and stain in it. It wasn't something that you could easily forget, especially after you've seen it not only from your past, but also in YouTube videos, and, occasionally, cluttered with bodies. But it wasn't that way here; it was homey, the way Evan would have left it on a whim to go get cereal at the store or catch a movie. Like it was okay again.  
Soon enough, I was pulled out of my reverie by someone yanking my short hair and throwing me onto the couch. I clutched the back of my head, searching around for HABIT or Schatten. But no one seemed to be anywhere in the basement. I shivered, nevertheless feeling that someone's eyes were probing me. The way a lustful someone would. Lust for flesh or for blood, I couldn't tell. But HABIT had a lust for both.   
I gasped, feeling icy fingers caress the back of my neck. I stood up again, on guard for something I couldn't see. I didn't speak, just watched. But it was all stillness; I couldn't read anything from what was happening. It wasn't a sense of dread, like what I'd felt whenever HABIT's bad moods were around; it was a sense of exposure, like I was a sitting duck in his pond of blood. The next moment, I heard a smooth whisper through the air like a gas, sticking itself to everything in it's wake.  
“Pretty, and smart. I like that.”  
What he'd said that first day I'd met him. I wasn't about to run up the stairs; I was used to this. I wasn't going to run from him. It was like the last night, when I asked to join him in the Candleverse. Being snotty and defiant, waiting for him to give in; even though I knew he wouldn't. He never gives in.  
“You're not gone.” I said to the empty room.  
“I'm never gone.” He pushed me from behind. He'd taken the form of Evan, but his eyes were something different. Pupils dilated so that you could hardly see the whites of his eyes. He was aggressive. I landed on the couch, and spun around, feeling vulnerable.  
“Don't give me that damned attitude, Meryse. You're not as bad ass as you think.” He snickered as he said it, taunting me.  
“You're a bastard, HABIT.” I ventured, remembering the last time I insulted him. Two months since I was killed in his Room. Two months.  
“Yes, I know. But you know that just because you said that doesn't change anything, right?” He leaned down on me, his black eyes gleaming in the poor lighting. “Nah. Not at all, actually.”  
I maintained my steely expression. “What makes you think I can't change anything?”  
“That was poor dialogue. I was expecting a better comeback.”  
“What do you want?”  
“I just wanted to visit you,” he said, sitting on the table across from me. “I missed seeing my little minion.”   
“Fuck off, I never meant anything to you.” I shrunk away, trying to avoid his eyes.   
“No, you're not as bad ass as you think. I happen to know that you're a delicate little flower when Schatten minds her own business. I've seen your habits. I love them.” He inched closer, leaning forward from the table.   
I curled up on the couch that I'd watched Evan's movies from for years. I missed sitting in between Jessa and Vin. Why did a tall, skinny man have to take that away? How could he be that bad?  
“What I don't understand is why I'm so interesting. I'm just a little girl with no one to go to anymore but you. I don't have a purpose unless you have another errand for me, or whatever.” Evan was getting frighteningly close to my face. Not Evan... HABIT.  
“The reason you're so interesting is the fact that you have no purpose. Because you're my slave, and I don't have anyone to go to either. But I'm more of a “fate isn't real” kind of guy, anyway.” He placed a hand on the cushion next to me to steady himself. I was becoming increasingly nervous, but not repulsed. “You're so beautiful and broken. It's like something to feed off of. A high that doesn't exist.” His nose touched mine.  
“HABIT, stop.” I only whispered it. It was just a dream; right?  
I had only had one boyfriend in the world; and that was my sophomore year of high school. He had grinded with me at a party and decided to stick around, and I noticed he was a pretty decent guy. Until he got bored with me. The son-of-a-bitch left me for my closest friend; because, of course, she was gorgeous. I had never done anything to make me hot and bothered except for that one time. But HABIT was much different from some douche at a party.  
When his lips touched mine, I felt like I was gonna lose it. Start crying or laughing or jumping or stabbing or something along those lines; but it was all inside my head. I was calm on the outside, and pulled away from him and gulped. I felt like I was drowning. I kept my mouth away from his, but I just barely heard him begging for me.  
“Come on, Meryse.” “It's just a dream.” “Do it for me.”  
Eventually, I caved and kissed him again, slower and softer. I felt him open his mouth a little, and tried to play off of it. Was I consenting to this? Was this really just a dream? By breath hitched when I felt him bite my lower lip softly. He gave a dark chuckle, and moved one of his hands behind my neck. I attempted to be bold, and threw off his fedora, which had already been tipped back. He made a playful sound in the back of his throat and moved to a place on the couch with me.  
Our kiss became more intense. I endeavored to match his aggression, but his personality had always put me in a state of submission. It was difficult. He pushed me back on the couch and pushed his fingers into my lower back, forcing me to arch a little. I pulled away to breath and gained a grip on his neck as he tried to dive down on me again.  
“You don't have fun anymore,” he told me. “Why don't you just relax?” And with a sly move, he slithered from underneath my hands and dove into the crook of my neck.   
He kissed it with soft, repetitive joints, causing a lull in the intensity. I breathed unevenly, moving my hands down his back and trying to feel the muscle that resided underneath his shirt. His kisses got longer and more passionate. Lustier. He began to suck at the base of my neck, just below my scar. I let a whining exhale escape, and I felt his fingers on my back spread, and dig down in my skin. His back muscles rippled under my fingertips. He put his legs in between my own, and my womanhood did a little back-flip. This was HABIT in his prime, a flesh-greedy, masterful and dominant playboy. I wanted him, but then I was reminded of who he was. I could taste the blood on his tongue and smell the burnt skin in his hair; he was a monster.   
“HABIT...” I breathed.  
“Yeah, baby?”  
“Stop.”  
His lips halted. His grip loosened. His body went cold. “What?” He pulled back to look in my eyes, only inches from my face. He was more stunned than upset; at first. “Why?”  
“I'm not your sex slave.” I attempted getting out from under him, but the black in his eyes told me that it was not wise.  
“I never said you were,” he told me. His nose wrinkled. I flinched, then he smiled and straddled my waist.  
“HABIT?” I asked. “HABIT, stop...” He grabbed both my wrists and pinned me.  
“But I was thinking it.” He laughed smoothly, and I wriggled under him, but not afraid yet. “What's wrong, Meryse? I thought you wanted a good time.”  
“You're not my type.” I smiled, until he pulled out a knife. “Wait...”  
“Then we're in agreement. I don't like the taste of brunettes, anyway.” The last thing I saw in my nightmare were his dark eyes and a knife coming down on me.


	13. It's Worth A Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I tried. And succeeded.

When I woke up screaming, Liam and Jordan came barreling in, expecting to find me being hauled out of the window. Instead, I was sitting on the couch and soaking in a considerable amount of my own blood and staring at my pale visage in the mirror on the east wall.  
They kept shouting questions at me until the neighbors slammed against the door, telling us all to shut the hell up. Jordan carried me out the door while Liam got as many towels as he could and ran to start his car. I just kept mumbling and screaming and talking in German-English again; waiting for it all to stop.  
After I was all patched up and couldn't provide any health information, the boys begged and won over the nurse to let it slide, (considering I didn't exist anymore in the world). They eventually asked me how it could have possibly happened when I was all calm and collected. All I told them was that it was a “Bad HABIT”. It meant nothing to them but suicidal tendencies, but I didn't need to be kept overnight; they were practically shoving us out the door, anyway.  
We left and they brought me back home... Liam began making arrangements for me to stay in another place until I could figure out what was happening for myself. I couldn't tell him to let me stay; it would have made things worse. So I sat and watched my sunken eyes in the mirror until he told me there was coffee ready.

Two hours after Three's company  
The Things. That's all I could have known them by, but they were real. I saw them with my own eyes; but I couldn't have explained what they looked like if you asked me. I chose to contribute nothing to the wiki; I would be taken for a gamejacker. But this was no game.  
HABIT was back in Evan, and Vinnie was now host to his interests. Willingly or unwillingly was hard to distinguish. Shaun... what would they do to him?  
Liam was driving me to his sister's hostel with the remaining money that Noah had left me a while earlier; it was one hundred twenty-some bucks, including the contributions from Jordan.  
“Think you'll manage?” He kept his eyes on the road.  
“I've never had trouble before,” I replied, and massaged my bandaged wrists. “If I need to, I think I'll always be welcomed back there.”  
“Why would you ever want to go back?”  
“Well... it seems that it's coming to a close. I mean, all the hints with 'appetizers' and 'first course', maybe I'll come back to say goodbye for a final time.” A lump developed in my throat, but I couldn't tell exactly why it was there.  
Liam's sister was nice to me for as long as I stayed there; which wasn't long. Eventually, I hopped rides back up to Piscataway to search for the house. The spring was getting abundant and warm; my hoodie was not particularly choice clothing.  
I walked four hours on a Sunday to the address. I knocked on the front door. While waiting for someone to answer, a familiar but still frightening aura crossed over the threshold of the door; I was not welcome. The entire place stood there like a monument to the hardships and betrayal of my near past. I shivered and walked away, not wanting to disrupt anything, or even get involved. I slept in a park that night; but it was the only time I'd felt safe in Piscataway since late October.  
Having a card for the local library was an incredible convenience for me, because it enabled me to stay on a computer for sessions lasting between 7-9 hours per day. The library volunteers would occasionally come by to tell me how long I had been staring at a screen, and a select few would bring me snacks from the vending machines from outside when I started looking pale. They were such nice people. Occasionally someone would sit next to me ask my story, expecting some Forrest-Gump-type shit. I would just smile and shoo them away, telling them to mind their own business in a way that didn't make them want to kick me.   
As a result, I spent six full days in the public library and seven full nights sleeping on a bench in the park across from The House. I woke up on the seventh day and started to head for the library. The walk took about fifteen minutes to and from, so it gave me time to plot out what I wanted to have happen for the day. Today was no different than any other day... I would try to suck all of the information on anything I could find out of the internet. After my six days, I'd found naught but a collection of Order Manifests and a blocked page concerning Corenthal's records that required a password. I wondered if Hilfe might send something. I was almost waiting for a correspondence. I decided that I would focus on finding a way to contact Hilfe.  
However, halfway there, I began to wonder if I should attempt to enter the house again. Or at least knock to see if anyone would answer. I highly doubted that I'd be welcome anymore – they had their own affairs to be worried about. But was it worth a try? I decided it was, and turned on my heel on the sidewalk.  
By the time the front porch was slowly growing in proximity, I began to have second thoughts. I was finding these to be ridiculously common; especially when encountering firewalls on the web, or finding an article that sounded too good to be true. The heat of the day began to take its toll, so I slipped out of my gray hoodie, leaving only my Grateful Dead t-shirt and my dark skinny jeans. My red Converse scraped on the walk; it was the only noise that I was aware of. I felt so unsure, but something told me that I was doing the right thing.   
The porch stairs seemed to creak louder than usual, and the dark and negative aura of the place returned. I tried to peek through the windows, but they were obviously all blocked off. I raised my hand to knock on the door... and stopped just before I could. I couldn't take any more abuse, emotional or physical. I didn't want to be greeted by a scowl, or a slap, or a scream from somewhere in the halls. Then I remembered a good point that Noah had made in one of his recent videos: “If there's one thing that I've learned from all this... It's that no progress is ever made from just staring pensively at unopened letters.” I didn't have an unopened letter, of course, but it's the same philosophy. Nothing is going to happen if I didn't make an attempt to try.  
I knocked four times on the door.  
“It's me,” I ventured, hoping whoever was there would recognize me.  
For a while, there was nothing. Nothing to indicate that anyone even lived there, although that had always been the intent. They had to be here. I was about to knock again when I heard the door unlock. I stepped back a considerable amount, waiting for something to jump out at me. But all that stood there was Vincent Everyman, his face as white as could be.  
“Go away. Now.”  
I knew it. He tried closing the door on me, but my violent streak kicked in. I stopped the door with my hand and pushed it back.  
“What the hell, Vinny? No 'You're alive'? No 'Where have you been'?”  
“I'm only trying to protect you; we have a guest.”  
“Yes, I know,” I said, rolling my eyes.  
“You can't be here. You left on your own, so why are you coming back?” He was whispering, like it was forbidden to talk outside of the house. “What do you have to come back to?”  
“I can't go anywhere else!” I shouted at him. “There's nowhere to turn! I've exhausted all my options... I don't exist here anymore, Vincent.”  
“What do you mean, you don't exist?” He leaned on the doorjamb, suddenly interested.  
“When I left through the Bridge, I was sent to the hospital. I don't have any life insurance records, my birth certificate wasn't on any register of theirs, and it's all HABIT's fault.” I rubbed my eyes; sleeping on a park bench wasn't very comfortable.  
“What do you want me to do? I mean, HABIT has his own intentions, and I don't want to get in his way. I don't even know where he is right now.”  
“Why don't you tell him I came back?”  
“Are you insane, Meryse?” He crossed his arms, looking around the block. “We don't know how he'll react. I thought you knew how fragile our situation is.”  
“I do. It's just... I've been sleeping in a park and living in a library for about a week, and there's no one I know and no one nice enough to take me in. Would you just tell him I stopped by?”  
“You know what? Why don't you just tell him?”  
“Tell me what?”  
HABIT came down the stairs with a skip in his step and his typical wide grin; until he saw my face. Then a mix of something like knowledge, anger and slyness crossed like a shadow over his sharp visage. A scowl remained. “Fuckface.”  
“Hi,” was what I said. I held my laptop closer to my chest and felt the leftover sting of the wounds on my wrists. The ones he'd inflicted.  
“What are you up to these days?” He pushed past Vinny to get a good look at me. I wasn't much of a sight; dirty, sleep-deprived and still bandaged in lots of places.  
“Nothing really important. I'm looking for a place to stay.”  
“Why do you think we'd want you?”  
I looked to Vinny, but he avoided my gaze.  
“I hate to say it, but there's nowhere left for me to go. I was hoping you could scrounge up some compassion and let me have my room back.”  
“Your room is no longer yours. It's practically a pantry now.” He smiled at me. “Although, I do suppose you could stay. For a fee, of course.”  
“What the fuck do you mean? I stayed for free last time.”  
“Well this time, we no longer have a deal. You're free range.”  
“What's your fee?” I didn't have much of a choice; I was sick and tired of sleeping outside.  
“I'll need to think about it. Meanwhile, you'll have to clear out your bedroom by yourself.” He walked across the entry. “Make yourself at home”.   
I crossed the threshold and Vin retreated into the kitchen while HABIT lingered on the stairwell. I looked around, breathing in the familiar scents of paint, death and blood. It felt like home.  
“How are those wrists of yours?”  
“Fuck you.”  
Home sweet home.


	14. Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Glad to be back.

one week before GOODBYE  
The first of May wasn't eventful, really. Nothing had been eventful since I'd arrived... I'd kept to myself after spending a full week hauling limbs and buckets of blood into the backyard to be burned. I'd scrubbed the room clean and bought new paint for it. The walls were now a soft and inviting yellow color... this was my abode now. I washed the sheets at the Laundromat and cleaned out the wardrobe... I'd even invested in some new clothes from the local thrift store. I had no more money after that... just my new room and my tired laptop. It felt better to have a place of my own rather than to feel like a stranger in someone else's home. Which I was, but... they were too dead to care.  
No, the first of May wasn't eventful; until I went to go get dinner.  
HABIT had ordered pizza again, but gave me the choice of toppings. When I heard the doorbell ring, I decided to grab some before HABIT ate it all, considering that Vinnie was retreating to his room for the evening. I opened my door and stopped short; where the hall leading to the landing should have been, was a black abyss.  
“HABIT?” I called, but all I got was a hollow echo. I reached out to see if I could touch it. It seemed like an open space with no end that just went on an on... it was nothing but blackness. I stepped back and shut my door, then opened it again. There was the hall. But at the end, Alex stood with two daggers, staring me down like an animal. He didn't make an effort to move forward, just stood and watched me, waiting. I closed the door again after a while, then reopened it. There was no one there, and the smell of pizza wafted slowly through the landing. I took a cautious step forward, expecting the floor to give way like a mirage. But it didn't.   
I jogged down the stairs and HABIT was waiting there with a slice of green-pepper-and-tomato on a paper plate, grinning congenially. He'd warmed up in the past few days, but he still hadn't told me his fee. I was growing anxious. We sat across from each other in the entryway, and I chose to bring up what had happened.  
“The strangest thing just happened.”  
“Really?” He was obviously more interested in his pizza than in me.  
“Yeah. I went to open my door, and there was just... nothing.”  
He shrugged. “I don't know what to tell ya, kid. Crazy shit like that happens a lot here.”  
I only nodded, and took another bite. “But then, I saw the hallway, only... Alex was standing there. At the end of the hall, I mean.”  
HABIT stopped chewing and stared at his plate, but didn't say anything.  
“I dunno,” I continued. “It just seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing much has been happening, anyway. It's been kind of slow.”  
“For you.”  
“Has it been different for you?” I watched him stand up to get another two slices. I didn't hear anything for a few moments. Then,  
“We have a guest.”   
I sighed. I've heard him crying in The Room. “Yes, I know. Is he giving you anything?”  
“I haven't talked to him yet. It's cold as a motherfucker in there, so I'm just letting him sort of... freeze.” He returned with a smile, as if satisfied with himself.  
“Are you planning on talking to him?”  
“Why the hell are you so interested?”  
“I don't know...” But I did. I wanted to contact Michael about Shaun, but I didn't have enough information. I changed the subject. “Have you decided what my fee is, yet?”  
“I'm pretty close. It's nothing too terrible.” Which meant that it was going to be terrible.   
I trembled unconsciously, and listened the calming sounds of the house. Vinny tapping on his computer upstairs, the creaks of the floorboards, the occasional whimper from God knows where. And HABIT breathing in long, relaxing sighs that somehow soothed the mood of the place. I stared down at my toes, thinking about the remaining methods I could use to contact Hilfe. I hadn't had much time to sort it out. Between redecorating and the emotional toll of being back, it hadn't really crossed my mind until yesterday, when I sat down with my laptop for the first time since walking in the front door.  
“Have you heard from Schatten at all?” I was surprised it was HABIT asking.  
“No. She's... gone,” I replied, “It's like she kind of disappeared when I left through the Bridge.”  
He nodded in response, looking at the wall behind me pensively.  
“How's the Candleverse?” I managed to ask.  
“Do you want more?” He pointed at my plate. I shook my head. “It doesn't matter, does it?”  
“I guess not. I'm not supposed to ask, anyway.” I grinned jokingly. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but it appeared the words got stuck in his throat. “I should get back to... what I'm doing.”  
“Your fee will be waiting for you tomorrow,” he called as I went up the stairs. I bit my lip and made my way down the hall, and shut my bedroom door for the night.

The next morning, I woke up early to the sound of a hushed argument. I passed my hand through my mussed hair and tied it up, now that it was long enough to do so. I ordered myself to be as silent as possible on my way to the door. Looking out the window, it appeared to be around five AM.  
I pressed my cheek to the floor, peering under the door to see Vinny and HABIT's feet shuffling almost nervously. They were at the end of the hall, engrossed in their confrontation. HABIT's voice was multi-toned with frustration; Vinnie sounded frightened, but not swayed.  
“I don't want to anymore.” Vin's voice cracked a little.  
“This isn't really an option for you, dumbass. You can't just drop the ball on this one.”  
“I've been doing it too long; I can't stand it.”  
“That doesn't especially matter, now does it?”  
“I don't care.”  
“You can't afford this luxury, Vincent.” HABIT spat his name like it was an obscenity. “I'm keeping you in for our own fucking benefit. Meryse, too; that's why I decided to let her stay.”  
“Why the hell do you care about her, anyway?”  
“She's been in this for a while; she knows too much to be let out.”  
My breath caught. If I knew too much, was he planning to do something to me?  
Vin suddenly sounded bolder. “She's not yours. She's ours.”  
“What do you mean, 'ours'?” He laughed. “You have no one. They're all dead.”  
“Maybe here. But you and I both know -”  
A knock on the door cut him off. Company? This early? I stood back up and heard someone walk down the stairs, and someone walking towards my room. A soft knock.  
“Meryse, up. Company.” HABIT's voice had calmed down.  
I slipped into a pair of shorts and an open-back floral tee, and made my way downstairs very cautiously. Who could come here this early? The sky was just now turning navy blue. The man who had walked in was as tall as Vinnie, and looked unusually intimidating. He pushed the straight, black hair out of his face, and gave me a grave smile. He extended a hand, and I took it.  
“Good morning, miss...?” His voice was gravelly; he looked familiar.  
It was then that I realized I could barely remember my last name. I remembered at the last moment. “Callahan.”  
“Miss Callahan.” His voice was incredibly muddled and almost unreadable. He wore a scarf around his neck, probably to keep out the early-morning cold. “I've come a long way to visit.”  
HABIT grabbed my arm forcefully and pushed my towards him. Getting a closer look, I knew immediately who he was.  
“Milo Asher.”  
“In some ways, yes.” He nodded at HABIT. “He tells me he's taking care of you.”  
“You could call it that,” I smiled. “He told me I needed to pay a fee, though.”  
“That's what I'm here for.”  
I looked to HABIT, who was now leaning on the front door. He winked at me.  
“What do you want me to do?” I crossed my arms.  
“Our friend owes me a favor, and you'll be quite enough.”  
“How is this a fee?”  
“We need something you have.” He took off his scarf, revealing the deep knife wound.  
“What do I have that you need?”  
“In order for us to be completely open with one another, I'm going to be needing to withdraw some information from you. Information only you have.”  
“What are you talking about? I'm sure that you know everything I do.” I stepped back a little.  
“No, you have something different. A kind of kill switch inside you. It's very important for the relationship of The Collective and your friends to continue being unscathed. If you don't give it up, we'll have to break our contract. Therefore... our friend here can do whatever he wants to you.”  
HABIT looked away, but I could tell he was already planning how to end me for good.  
“I don't want conflict,” I said, “But I don't have the kill switch you're talking about. All I know is that I was infected with a spirit for a while, but she's gone, and she's not coming back.”  
“A spirit?” Milo moved closer, and I flinched.  
“Yeah, an associate of his,” I pointed at HABIT. “Her name was Schatten. It's a long story, but technically our tie was broken, and she's not coming back unless HABIT wants her.”  
Milo turned to face Evan's strong form. “What can we do to get your spirit back?”  
“She doesn't work with me anymore; I don't know where she is.”  
“Then, you,” he pointed at me. “Your fee for him is to find her. No matter what will happen.”  
My mouth was agape for a few moments.  
“What makes you think I can do it? She's not a part of me anymore.”  
“I have extensive experience with this. She's with you. I'm sure.” He nodded in Vinnie's direction, shook HABIT's hand, and opened the front door. Milo looked my way. “I'm giving you a week to find her. This time next Wednesday, I'll be back for my kill switch.” And, with that, he left.


	15. Small Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Funny; how casual it all is.

For most of the morning, I avoided looking at HABIT and kept close to Vinnie, drinking coffee with him, doing research, plotting a little bit. There wasn't much to plot; I was on a deadline and he was losing time with each passing hour. I heard him chuckle a little while we were sitting across from each other on his bed, staring into our computer screens.  
“What?” I asked, smiling over the screen.  
“Do you remember when Alex tried to get Evan to drink Ipecac that one time?” He pressed his spacebar a little forcefully.  
“What made you think of that?”  
“I'm reading through the eulogies for him.”  
“There weren't any eulogies.”  
“We wrote them, even though there wasn't a formal service.”  
“I do remember,” I say, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable. “It was after the Final Destination 2 premiere, right?”  
“Yeah!” We both laughed, and then trailed off, both coming to a realization. “Although, I guess that maybe didn't ever happen.”  
I was reminded that our lives were just mass hallucinations. There was nothing outside this house for us. Just lots of screwed-up lives that didn't matter, and a tall man that wouldn't leave us alone. 

When I came downstairs to get a drink, HABIT was making a sandwich in the kitchen. I opened the fridge and reached in; I felt his hand on my shoulder. He pulled me up to look at me. I shivered, and he clutched my wrists in his hands to observe the wounds, which weren't covered anymore.  
“Not bad enough to scar, I guess,” he muttered.  
“Why?” I asked him angrily, yanking my wrists from his grip. We had never talked about what had happened, but I had not forgotten.  
“I got angry.”  
“Like hell, you got angry.” I set my drink on the counter. “You forced me out of the one place I thought I would stay for the rest of all this. I could have stayed there as long as I wanted. But I woke up screaming and had to be rushed to the hospital. I scared them, and so they kicked me out.”  
“So, no one wants you.” It wasn't a question. He was telling me a logical statement.  
“No,” I returned, “No one wants me. I don't exist.”  
“In more than one sense?” Now he was just toying with me. Trying to get me to fall prey to his manipulation. I leaned causally against the counter and opened my drink.  
“Yeah, I guess.”  
“Why don't you run?”  
“What do you mean?” I asked, taking a sip.  
“You're not half as jumpy as Vinnie is, and you've only been in this for a few months.” He paused for a moment, cutting his sandwich into fourths. “You remind me of Jeff that way.”  
“Don't you dare talk about Jeff-”  
“Oh, like you knew him all that well,” he interrupted. “You're on the outside of this whole thing. He didn't remember you. You wouldn't have mattered.”  
I just stood there with my drink while HABIT walked to the table in the entryway. I thought for a moment about standing up to him, but I'd been doing that for too long with no results. It wasn't going to help anything keep arguing with a stagnant personality. So I walked past him and made a remark that made his nose wrinkle:  
“Maybe I'm not as jumpy as Vinnie because he's actually afraid of you.” 

Two days had passed, and all I'd achieved were four sent emails to the address hilfeistein@gmail.com. The door had been locked for several hours now, and I had let no one enter. I hadn't slept or eaten, and I only left to use the bathroom. The yellow walls contrasted in mood with my bloodshot eyes; the scent of death rolled under the door like a mist, and permeated the air until the oasis I had built turned to nothing but what it was before. I opened the window eventually, and I must have stood there for half an hour. I relished the chilled breeze curling around my face, the scent of eminent springtime filling nose. I let it clear out the stench of my room. The sky was turning a sort of navy color; it was around 4:30 or 5:00 in the morning.  
May the 5th.  
And Shaun was still crying.  
I must have made a sound louder than I intended at some point, because he started crying for help and banging on the walls; I found it sort of admirable, since he must have been kept in restraints. But he cried constantly. Never relenting the pain. Never denying it. Just... soaking it in. He said his brother's name once or twice. And then HABIT would laugh. And keep laughing. He was in the most pleasant mood of his life, lately.  
Or maybe it was finally getting to him.  
Along with all his hysterical laughter, his sniffs would become growls. From the sounds outside my door, his breathing had become tri-tone; his glee fully audible. Occasionally, he'd mutter to himself. He was an animal, in short. Even more than what he had been.  
I still wasn't scared, even after all of this. And when I finally realized that, I walked out of my room and downstairs.  
“What's for breakfast?”  
His back was turned, and the aroma made it obvious; bacon. Of what variety, I didn't care to ask.  
“Bacon.” Something inside of me turned over as he said it. You could hear it, even in such a simple word. The fury, the manifestation of decades; centuries of hate and insanity. I braced the threshold of the door and nodded.  
“Sounds... nice,” I muttered. He could hear me, I knew. He would always hear me.  
“Have you done anything about your fee?” It was business-like. The sizzle of grease filled the silence that I chose to be as my response.  
“Well?”  
“I've tried contacting people.” Which I hadn't. No one of use. Only for my own motivations.  
“I don't believe you, really.” He flipped a piece over and covered it with tin foil. He turned to face me and I saw what two days could do to him. Honestly, there wasn't much of a change. But his eyes... you could see the difference there. Dark under the strangely black pupils, the blood seeping in from the corners and redness all around. They were determined and sad at the same time. It was ethereal, in a sense. “I don't believe you at all.”  
I took a deep breath, and then, “I know you don't.”  
His chest heaved under the hoodie that had been used for more than four years now, and he turned back to his food.  
“I thought you'd say that.”  
I waited for him to say something else, but there were only the pops and cracks on the pan echoing through the kitchen, and my heartbeat in my throat.  
It became apparent then that I wasn't so sure that he cared anymore.


	16. Backtracking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all came back, all at once.

When Hilfe finally replied, it was 1:48 in the morning on May 7th.   
Meryse,  
Yes, I know your name. You're being followed, but not by who you'd expect. I can tell you very little, which I'm sure you're very used to at this point. What I can tell you is this:  
Your little friend never left.  
It is still someone inside of you; entities are parts of their vessels for millenia before their full effects leave the soul. Little shards are stuck in to you like pieces of glass in a palm. Easily wiped away, but they still hurt after the fact.  
It can still be reached in the right ways.  
The hard thing is how.  
You must bring it back up. And there is no other way. Bring back the memories and the pain that I know you felt. Let it soak inside of you; let it simmer and the scent will call it. It will return; and this is how you must pay for safety.  
It is the price of your “freedom”.  
I must stop contacting you for the time being; anonymity is a natural component of myself; and it should be of yours. Be careful where you step, Meryse. Although you may not be a part of the mortal world, there are still others watching. Others that are more powerful than any mortal in all of history.  
Be wary of the way.  
And be wary of him.  
-Hilfe.  
For the first night in weeks, I slept. I slept soundly and without dreams. I knew that tomorrow would be hell. I had no other choice, like they said. It would be a difficult day. One that would be painful and stark and without any mercy; not that I was used to anything relating to the word “mercy”. I'd been shown none for months.

When I awoke, I went immediately downstairs. HABIT had gotten an early start, and was sitting on the couch in the living room playing video games. I couldn't tell which because I was too focused on telling him what I knew. I let him know everything. All I got was his characteristic grunt in response. I scoffed, asked him if there was tea.  
“Earl Grey.”  
I placed my mug of water in the microwave and set it for a minute and thirty seconds. I leaned up against the counter, listening to the hum of the radioactive waves, and shut my eyes. Months of getting sucked into the hell that was my life, getting pulled out by a higher power, and coming back to it. Like it was a drug I couldn't help relapsing from. Then again, I wasn't given much of a rehab as it was. Days upon days of sitting in front of a screen, living vicariously through light and pixels, combinations of code and documents, sifting through countless forums, learning ciphers and decoding riddles, hundreds of bookmarked pages, hundreds of hits of watching the same videos over and over, trying to find something, one YouTube channel, playlists of compiled music on Steph's blog, searching through Trials videos. The list could go on forever; oh, how much of my time I'd dedicated to this.  
A harsh beep.  
I let the tea sit for five minutes, preparing myself. I would need to start from the beginning. That first night, when I was rousted from an uneasy sleep and dragged down to a room of cultists, stripping me down and chanting in my ears. I took a sip of my tea. It scalded my tongue, and my mouth contorted in a nasty shape. The pain tasted like coming out of one of her trances. The trances that left my body aching and begging for sleep. That forced me to do unspeakable things that I was never gained access to, even after it was all finished. All of it.  
I let the misery soak in, as instructed. It curdled like sour milk in my mind, making me squint and set my mug down in conflict. I sat down, my back against the cabinets. I drew my knees up to my chin. The tears filled my the insides of my eyes as I was brought back to the room. The bones snapping. The skin being torn and the blood. All the blood. You can never really explain blood until you've experienced it for yourself, I've found. You can never really explain anything like that until it's been done to you. Especially someone like him.  
I felt it.  
It was coming on like a foreboding you know was negative. So negative that it tickles the back of your throat with anxiety. Like an object flying at you, and you know it's was going to hit you. I let all the unmentionable images flood in, the horrid sounds that made what skin I had left crawl, the screams I didn't know I could humanly produce, the texture of the wood on my cheeks as he held my head down onto it. The reverberations of his various rock bands bouncing off the walls, the blinding hideousness of his floodlight hitting my bloodshot eyes.   
And all of the sudden, she was there. Soaking the tears back into their ducts and SMASHING the mug on the counter AGAINST the FUCKING FLOOR.   
HOW DARE SHE CALL ME BACK? I WAS JUST GETTING COMFORTABLE. WHAT DOES SHE NEED FROM ME? WHAT ON EARTH COULD I DO FOR HER PATHETIC SOUL?   
I need help.  
WHAT DOES MERYSE NEED HELP WITH?  
It's not me, it's Mr. Scars.  
HE WAS ALWAYS AFTER ME, I SUPPOSE. HE WANTS MY POWERS, DOESN'T HE?  
He says you're a killswitch.  
THOSE AFFAIRS ARE BETWEEN ME AND HIM. WHEN DOES HE WANT SCHATTEN TO HELP HIM?  
He'll be back soon. Very soon.  
I WILL BE HERE. I WILL ALWAYS BE HERE FOR MERYSE.  
I unclenched the shards of glass that had I'd been crunching in my fist, watching the blood pile up in my palms, and let out a whimper of pain. Smiled. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like. But it felt good to hurt again, in a very alien and disturbing way. A new kind of disturbing, a new realization of my masochism.   
“You okay?” I didn't know if it was HABIT, Vinny, me, Schatten, Jeff, Hilfe...  
“I'm great.” And I was. I truly was.


	17. Crux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> crux (noun)  
> [kruhks]  
> 1\. a vital, basic, decisive, or pivotal point.  
> 2\. a cross.  
> 3\. something that torments by its puzzling nature; a perplexing difficulty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RAPE trigger warning. Go to end notes for important plot elements explained.

-GOODBYE-

May the 8th. The longest day out of any.  
It began early. Very, very early. At 4am, I heard Vinny walk into the Room, and I wouldn’t have been awake, if it hadn’t for HABIT’s thundering steps following closely behind him. It was time.  
I got bored of hearing HABIT’s voice for what seemed like hours, and I didn’t make out much except for the typical muffled musings he liked to monologue on… those were nothing different. Somehow Shaun felt like a different sort of rabbit. More important than a simple plaything. It wasn’t long, however, until I heard Vinny leave again, and the muffled musings became a victim’s muffled screams. I found myself pressing my ear up to the wall again; listening for the sounds that I shouldn’t have craved, but did. He seemed too pivotal to kill, I wouldn’t have believed that HABIT would have finished him off.  
I may have been wrong, because the screams stopped eventually. Faded out like an echo in the Room. Of course, I couldn’t fall back asleep knowing that Shaun was very possibly, (even most likely), dead.  
I heard Vinnie snoring into the afternoon hours, even from across the long hall. It was a new sound that I wasn’t used to. I’d only recently discovered that Vinnie had, in a way, taken over my job. Or… maybe not so recently? I realized that my sense of time was becoming distorted; the timeline was meshing together in a string of events that seemed disconnected and impossible.  
HABIT had gone back to his typical custom of humming around the house, seeming quite satisfied with the state of his being. I went back, again, to look at “le premier cours”, because I hadn’t seen it in a while.  
I don’t know exactly why it took me until then to notice. I couldn’t have explained it to anyone, just how oblivious I must have been. Maybe it was just me, or maybe it was an other-worldly trick to deceive me. Maybe I was finally warding off whatever was keeping me hidden in that house. In any case, I didn’t notice something that was so conspicuous in my very existence.  
The black void on the 1st of May. The hallway. There was no hallway in that video.  
I went back further, looking at more points of view from each portion of the house, and was stupidly astounded at this new discovery. The hallway leading to my bedroom was nonexistent. Not there, never was. It was a product of a some strange, great force. To look at it from that perspective... there were so many questions. Was it used to protect me? To hide me? From what?  
Fiction. We’re fiction. Even me, of course.  
I opened my door again, knowing that somehow, it took me between separate planes of reality. My nausea returned full-force, this new revelation overwhelming me. I stumbled into the bathroom and retched into the toilet, body convulsing and producing nothing but a burn in my throat. How? How could I not have noticed? I was furious and confused. So confused.  
I flushed, rinsed my mouth in the sink, and threw open the bathroom door.  
“HABIT,” I shouted.  
“Yes, my darling girl?” he appeared at the bottom of the stairs.  
“What the fuck did you do to my room?”  
It was obvious that he knew what I meant, because the scowl was back. The troubled, crazed scowl. “That’s not important.”  
“I don’t exist in any sense of the fucking word; that’s pretty important.” I countered.  
“None of you do! It’s a ruse, bitch! A goddamn way to get you separated from the rest of us!” he grunted sternly.  
“But why?” I sounded like a toddler, but the desperation was clear. “Why?”  
“What will it take to get you to shut the fuck up?!” he roared, and stormed up the stairs. I did the only thing I could think to do: shut the door and braced myself against it.  
He pushed past as if it were a curtain, blasting it back against me. I recovered, and tried to bring a hand down to strike him. He was faster. He seized my wrist and backhanded me. But I could tell from his expression that he wasn’t finished, not in the least.  
He dragged me by my wrist, his grip invincible. I resisted against him, crying out Vinnie’s name, but by some means it was muffled, quieted.  
“I kept you here so when the time came, no one could hear you scream.” The scowl was gone, and the wicked grin replaced it. The connotation came as a very slow realization as I tried to get away from him. He pulled me up against him and opened my bedroom door, hauling me in and slammed it shut behind him. He forced me onto the ground, and that’s when I drank in the reality that this was my worst fear come to life. He was going to do it. HABIT was going to rape me.  
I cowered there like frightened animal, making myself as small as possible. With a strength I couldn’t comprehend the source of, he picked up my body and threw it onto the bed, easing himself down with me, finding his grips to hold me down in the process.  
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare look me in the eyes, whore.” he breathed.  
He began by roughing up my neck again, like in the nightmare. But this was so much worse than any nightmare I could even begin to think up. Growling, primal noises came from him as he grinded up against me, getting as close to me as humanly possible. I wrestled my hardest to get him off of me, but I couldn’t match his power. It was… impossible. I lay there crying as he rose up and practically ripped off my shirt, and mangled my breasts with his teeth and hands, biting and never relenting, and I started to give up any sort of movement. Stop, I thought, please, please stop…  
I whimpered nothing more than “sto...p”, to which he cackled. He grinded up against me again, and a whine unintentionally escaped my lips. I made the mistake of opening my eyes for a moment.  
He slapped me, commanding, “What did I say about looking at me?!”  
I sobbed aloud and closed my eyes again, wanting nothing else but release; more than I had wanted anything in the world.  
“Mmm…” he cooed, and I felt him release the vice on my wrists and take my chin in his hand. He kissed me, but it was nothing like before. This was violent and unfeeling, completely lustful. “Your brokenness is entrancing, Meryse.”  
“Ge-t o..ff,” I managed, and he cackled once more, moving down my corpse-like form. I used all my might to attempt to move off the bed, but the tri-tone growl I heard warned me otherwise. I obeyed… how could I have obeyed?  
I felt every sensation from the fabric underclothes being slipped off to the first time he entered me with his first two fingers. I let out an expletive directed towards him.  
“Don’t act like you don’t fuckin’ love it… you’re so wet already…” he murmured.  
“Stop.” I said clearly, the most I could muster, and he didn’t. Instead, he pulsed faster and added his ring finger, curling them inside of me. I opened my eyes, keeping them trained on the ceiling. I felt his tongue against my sensitive spot. At this, I shuddered, a strange heat starting to bloom in my abdomen. "U-hhh...huh..."  
"That's right...” he breathed. “What a good little girl.” He clawed on my inner thigh with his other hand. For the first time, my hips bucked against him out of instinct. I moaned; it was obvious I was coming closer to the edge. He produced a victorious noise.  
I raised a hand to cover my mouth so I couldn’t let him hear me again, but before it reached midway I felt a darting pain in it that made me scream. The bone crunched inside my palm, and I felt liquid pouring down my arm, and the sense of a foreign object piercing through my hand.  
“Not so fast,” HABIT tsked. “That deserves punishment, doesn’t it?”  
He withdrew the knife from my hand and I felt it slice gracefully across my stomach and inner thighs; and I let out another sob of despair. “Ple...ase,” I begged. “No-t thi..s…”  
“Too late, babe!” I couldn’t look; I didn’t want to look. All I felt was him at the entrance and a sudden and stabbing pain that I couldn’t stop from clenching around. I heard him groan as I pressed against his girth. The nervous bloom inside my stomach was building exponentially as he began thrusting with bruising intensity; I bit my lip, eyes fluttering, trying to ignore the rhythmic timing that he kept pace with. I felt we were both getting painfully near. Rather suddenly I released the pent-up heat and writhed in shivering acquittal, a strangled but impassioned noise erupting from my throat. That was, until I remembered that he wasn’t done; but by then it was too late. He thrusted once more and gripped my hips, plunging as deep as he could. "A-ah, fuck yeah...!" he exclaimed, and I felt the rush of his heat inside me.  
Fuck, I thought, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…  
He practically fell on top of me, taking my neck in his grasp.  
“Now you can look at me with those pretty eyes of yours,” he purred, and I spat directly in his face for only the second time in my life. I felt the blood from my stomach smearing against my skin, and the blood from my thighs combining with HABIT’s warmth.  
He wiped it away, seemingly unfazed, save a wrinkle of his nose. He tightened the grasp on my neck, and I started to strain for air.  
“That,” he stated, “taught you, didn’t it?”  
I nodded out of obedience. I couldn’t risk anything else. Not anymore.  
May the 8th. The longest day out of any.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place in the time during and after "GOODBYE". Meryse discovers that her living quarters are completely fabricated, and asks for answers for a final time. HABIT finally snaps and enforces his authority in the worst way possible.


	18. Postlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I (NEVER) signed up for this. I am (BEGGING FOR DEATH).

It’s still hard to remember how long I lay there on the bed after he left. After he’d stood up, fixed his clothes, ran a hand through his hair and left.   
I hated myself. I fucking hated everything about myself. Everything from the fact that I was laying in my own blood and his… lesson, to the fact that I’d said anything in the first place. I was empty and fragile. It felt as if my bones could’ve shattered at the slightest movement. My eyes would bleed if I opened them. Schatten fixed the external wounds he’d given me, but she would never mend the ones he’d inflicted over the past year.  
One year? Yes, it had only been that short of a time.  
What made me get up was my overwhelming necessity to be clean. I practically crawled there and mustered up the power to turn on the water, then to throw myself under the stream. I sat, running my hands over each part of myself, not for the sake of cleaning but make sure that I was “me” in that moment. I made my way to standing and washed everything off. I didn’t feel clean, but my vessel…  
My body.  
My body was. My body was mine. HABIT’s. Schatten’s. It seemed it was for everyone. And my body was finished. My body begged to be defiled even more. My body itched for me to hurt it, but he’d already done enough of that.  
“Be wary of him”. Thanks, Hilfe.  
I waited for many hours after that for the tears to come, that I do remember. And after I’d spent the night awake staring at the closet that I’d once been convinced harbored make-believe monsters, I had to face the new day and go back to one that I knew was very real, and much worse than any childhood nightmare of mine.  
I chose to handle it as if it had never happened. That I was fine, and that I’d never discovered anything about the void that my bedroom in the House resided in. The fact that I was questioning if I was even real, and if I had anything to do with this other than reading Vinny’s goddamned email however many nights ago. Too many nights.  
I still had questions, and I had no desire to have them answered, neither did I expect them to be. Not after that. In the back of my mind, the thought that he might do it again itched to be surfaced. But I filed it away. And it screamed at me.  
I was in a plane of existence midway between Meryse and Schatten for that next day. I went on my first chore in a while. Schatten did her work while Meryse bathed in her self-pity.   
The next morning, Mr. Scars would be there to take her. He would do with her whatever he needed to do, and I would be rid of her forever. That would mean no more getting healed when the world hurt on the outside. That would mean having no more blind hours that were gone from the hell I lived in. That would mean I couldn’t do anything with the insurance that I was subconsciously one of HABIT’s associates, and therefore had no reason to keep me other than to store me for later, when he needed me.  
I cried that night, and Schatten comforted me. In all honesty, I think she still misses me.


End file.
